Fire and Water
by Peppermint Smile
Summary: When Ryan is forced to stay at Troy's home even share a bed with him after a traumatic accident and past, the two will find out more about each other than they thought they could.Tryan slash. PERMANENTLY UNFINISHED. Copyright 2007 Peppermint Smile
1. Prologue

_Took me absolutely forever to figure out where this fanfic was going, but know that I know, I can't wait to write it! Don't worry, I am honestly working on _Eastside Story_and _Sky Golden, _but I get easily distracted by my 10000000000000000 fanfic ideas, haha. Hope you enjoy this prologue[note:: yes, this chapter is modified_**  
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**Fire and Water**

**Prologue**

It wasn't until Mom left that I realized how much Dad hated Ryan. I had always been the favorite twin, but Ryan used to be at least a person in our father's presence. Now he was a way to vent anger. Swigging down a shot of vodka, our dad would stomp upstairs and drag Ryan from his room where he might have been calmly doing his homework or practicing our tryout piece. He would use any excuse at all, no matter how crazy and ridiculous to take out his frustration on his son. And Ryan tried so diligently to keep up with his grades and extracurricular activities. The late hours he had stayed up till…just to pass the seventh grade.

The first time my dad beat up Ryan the entire house shook with the force of my delicate brother's screams. Our mansion was too far away from anybody else for neighbor's to call in concern. I guess they figured those who are blessed with money can't have any family issues.

We didn't dare call anybody…we were too scared. For some reason, we never even thought of calling the police; it was just an unspoken agreement.

Silent sobs racked through my body as I watch Ryan become more and more unresponsive as the person we called "Dad" repeatedly kicked and punched his skinny body. I bawled by eyes out alone in my bedroom as my father lashed Ryan's back with his belt, his victim biting a pillow to stifle his screams. The only reason he tried to stifle them was for me; he knew I had had nightmares the night I had heard his cries.

We never told a soul about what life was like back at our home. It wasn't like it used to be, where we had no friends at all; we had plenty, like Troy Bolton, Gabriella Montez, Chad Danforth, and Taylor McKessie. Just no one we trusted _enough_ to tell about our dad.

Naturally, keeping such a secret from them causes the both of us to seem pretty isolated. Gabbi often asked me if something is bothering me the nights we sleep over (at her house, obviously) when it is the time of year where we live with our father. I just smiled and told her cheerfully that I was merely zoning out again. All I could do was stand to the side and watch them survive every day without the knowledge that when they go home they will have to listen to their angel of a twin brother be beaten out of consciousness.

People used to fear us. But even then, it was us who cowered together in fear at home as we listened to our drunken father smashing around the kitchen; mentally counting the minutes until Ryan would be disrupted.

People used to talk about how Ryan was my "lapdog", and I the bitchy sister. But really, they had it all wrong. I readily admit to being extremely protective of my slightly-younger brother; because honestly, the kid needed a lot of looking after…especially with a person like our father around. He was already a sensitive, fragile, quiet guy, and being told he was a worthless person every day for sixth months of the year really started to get to him. It came to the point where I could barely talk to Ryan anymore; he was so dehumanized. He would stare back at me, with his big eyes, no longer sparkling with his crazy optimism, but as dull as the sky after a stormy day on the sea.

I truly did hate myself. As much as I wanted to whisper words of comfort in his ear, all I could do was give him hugs and reassuring smiles, and wish to goodness he knew how much of my heart was in them. Any time I tried to do more, my words fell flat or turned into questions…or just failed to come out all together. The last one happened most frequently. I could easily chat away when I was not trying to fulfill the role of a supporting sister; I could easily yap away about the latest gossip and how adorable Zeke had been the other night, and Ryan would listen. Or, pretend to listen while letting his eyes glaze over as he thought of other things. But I didn't care; I still had **him**, and that was the important thing.

One experience stands out firmly in my memory. It took place at night, or early morning rather; my bedside clock read 1:00 A.M. I snuck out of my room and gently pushed open my brother's door. Ryan sat cross-legged on his bed; eyes closed and sitting up straight. I knocked on the open door, for the poor guy was easily startled lately. His eyes opened, recognized my fluffy pink bathroom, and nodded me in. I sat down next to him and laced my hand into his. Though Ryan's expression didn't change, his hand tightened around mine.

"Why?" was all I managed to croak out, even that one word reluctant to come out of my mouth. I stroked his increasingly skinny hand with my thumb, hoping to convey the rest of my thoughts through that. Hopefully the saying about actions speaking louder than words held water.

He gazed deep into my eyes, and deep in the pools of blue shadows, I caught a breeze of my real brother. The one who used to always cheer me up, make me laugh, and give me a reason to put on a smile every morning. Instead of straight out answering me, Ryan began to sing to me. I hadn't heard his sweet tenor in what seemed years; my eyes closed, as if going to sleep for the first time in centuries. It brought back such lovely memories to hear him sing. To no surprise, he sang a shortened version of a song by his favorite singer, Josh Groban.

_When I am down_

_And oh, my soul so weary_

_When troubles come_

_And my heart burdened be_

_Then I am still_

_And wait here in the silence_

_Until you come_

_And sit awhile with me_

_You raise me up_

_So I can stand on mountains_

_You raise me up_

_To walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong_

_When I am on your shoulders_

_You raise me up_

_To more than I can be_

_You raise me up_

_To more than I can be_

It was a beautiful song and sent shivers up my spine. The corners of Ryan's mouth turned up, and a sparkle escaped his eyes.

"You"

The small smile and small word were the most I obtained from my twin for several months hence.

That was one of his few good nights; the nights when he would look me back in the eye and speak to me. Most nights he wouldn't even respond. He would just stare straight at the wall, as if he wasn't even in the natural world at all. His silence scared me ten times more than any words could have. I would just hug him close to me, not caring that he said nothing. I knew he needed me.

Even though it was always a lot safer at our mom's, I dreaded the night there almost as much as I did at our dad's. And it wasn't because our mom was dreadfully poor; which there was no denying that she was, but we couldn't have cared less. The reason was because unlike at Dad's, Ryan would have nightmares—the type of nightmares where he would thrash violently in his sleep, tears mixing with the sweat on his cheeks. Even though we had different rooms at opposite ends of the hallway, somehow, I always knew exactly when his nightmare began. I would gently sit down on his bed and take him in my arms, rocking him back and forth while singing the same song over and over again in his ear. Only then would he quiet down and slip into more pleasant dreams, and I would go climb back into my own bed.

I never told him about it, because he would never remember. When he woke up in the morning, he couldn't recall the vaguest detail of the night before. I did not really want to be the one to tell him. The best way to explain it is if you've read the book Peter Pan; it is sort of like what Wendy does for Peter. Except Ryan is probably the farthest thing from Peter Pan you can find.

I couldn't bear the thought of what he would be like if he didn't have me. Ryan was deadly afraid of so many things; scary movies, big spiders, deep water, the list went on. I never got tired of taking care of and looking after my twin—because I loved him like the brother he was. He was depending on me, even if he didn't know he was; and I wasn't about to let him down.

But only a week into summer, I became utterly confused. I had woken up suddenly, in the middle of the night, and nothing made sense. Why did things smell so funny? Where was Ryan? Why was my cozy room filled with smoke and there an incessant siren above me somewhere?

And then it all clicked into place. The smell…the smoke…the siren…I began to scream at the top of my lungs.

"Fire**, fire, FIRE!**" My heart was going a million miles an hour, but I only had one thought on my mind—strike that, I had two; get the heck out of here and find Ryan. That kid couldn't differentiate between his right and left shoe nowadays, so there was no way he would be able to make it out of a burning house on his own steam.

I crammed my feet into my fluffy slippers and threw on a nearby bathrobe before tearing down the hallway to Ryan's room, remembering at the last minute to grab my purse on the bedside table. Yanking the door open, I saw to no small wonder that Ryan was sleeping straight through the alarm. _Honestly_.

"**Ryan, get up!**" He mumbled something incoherent and turned over. "**Get up**"

At last an actual reaction. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to process everything at once. Blinking bewilderedly, he yawned.

"Wha-what's going on?" he asked tiredly as I tugged desperately on his arm.

"**Mom's house is on fire; ****that's**** what's going on!!!**" He finally got the hint that he should get out of bed. He blearily snatched an old, ugly grey hooded sweatshirt and beat up sneakers from his closet before running after me into the hallway. My eyes smarted from the sting of smoke and sudden wave of heat.

It seemed so impossible; _our _house on fire. Luckily it was a one-story house, so we didn't have far to run to get out of the already-blazing home. Our mother was already there, dialing 911 on her cell phone.

And so Ryan and I stood, hand in hand, in sneakers and slippers, watching the only true home we had ever known burn to ashes from across the street.

"Where are we going to go, Mom?" I questioned her, seeing that she was no longer talking on her cell phone. I followed Ryan's suit by staring into the licking orange, red, and white flames.

"Not to your father's, that's for sure. I get you both through July, and I'm not going to live off of your father's charity." Not like we were **dying** to see the guy anyways.

So much for "not living off of our father's charity"; the guy drove over the moment he heard what happened, offering to drive us to a friend's house; didn't matter who, he just didn't want to see Ryan or Mom more than he had to.

Our mom didn't wish to watch her tiny home burn to ashes but did not want our father driving us _anywhere_. So she fixed the problem by making Ryan drive all for of us down to a hotel to spend the night at.

But she hadn't planned on a car swerving out in front of us by the fast food restaurant. She hadn't planned on the sports car skidding dangerously on the cold, wet pavement as her son desperately tried to save her ex-husband's car from colliding with the van. No one had planned for our father's seatbelt to break, or for my headrest to snap out of place. I hadn't been planning for things to fade so quickly into black nothingness….

Z

"Who all is hurt?" The nurse asked, glancing around at the side-on collision before her in the parking lot.

"In the black Toyota, the college student has a few bruises, but other than that is fun. Not so good with this other crew, though. The mother is fine; just in shock. The boy who had been driving is also in shock but also shattered a bone in his knee—Brandon had him lie down on the side of the road until the ambulance arrives. The poor kid was still in the driver's seat when he got here, and we had to pry his hands off the steering wheel. Then there was a teenage girl in the back seat; her headrest wasn't stable so she snapped her neck really badly and she is still unconscious. The medics are loading her onto a stretcher as we speak"

"And…the man?"

"Stone dead. His seatbelt broke when the car collided, and his head went smashing through the side window, sending glass directly into his brain"

The nurse sighed sadly. "Is the woman calm enough to tell us some contact numbers, or medical information for the teenagers?"

"She told us all we needed to know, and I believe she is calling a cab to take them the rest of the way to their friend's house. Ironically enough, her own home just burned down"

The nurse blew a dark strand of hair out of her eye.

"This doesn't look to be a very promising start for these people's summer"

Z

I lazily bounced a wall ball off of my ceiling and practiced catching it at the last second. I was bored stiff of summer _already _and ready to go to school and see all my friends again. My dad was going to be the death of me, always insisting that I practice drills and other basketball nonsense. At least this way, if he walked in, I could pretend I was working on hand-eye coordination.

I was getting sick of _everything_; of my plain, boring white walls, of my annual Wildcats Basketball calendar, of my trophies sitting on top of my dresser, of my dull clothing piled in tipsy stacks all over the _white_ carpet...even of my family…and even **Gabriella**.

I loved her to death, don't get me wrong. She was sweet, gorgeous, friendly, innocent…and just a ton of fun to be around. I loved seeing her every day…but that was the problem. Every day she came over to my house, and every day we goofed around my house. The tradition was shaken up a little by where we would hang out. My house, her house, TGI Friday's, Chili's, the basketball court, St. Regent's park, the local mall—but besides that small variation, everything was just the same thing after the same thing after the _same thing_.

I wanted something new and exciting to happen. When I first started dating Gabbi, everything was new and a surprise to me. **Having a girlfriend** was new to me, for Pete's sake. I loved being surprised by her little mannerisms and perks; the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, tilted her chin when she sang, and clapped her hands together when she was happy. But then I began to know it all just too well; she _always _tucked her hair behind her ear when she wasn't sure what to do, she _always_ tilted her chin whenever she sang a song, and whenever she was happy she would clap her hands! I knew I was being a stick in the mud for thinking so, but I was dying for her to do something drastic and new…like start fighting with me about flirting with another girl, or maybe even break up with me!

Now that was an idea; I could do something terrible to make Gabbi break up with me. But what? I could always cheat on her with another…but why would I want to? I hated the thought of making Gabbi mad at me, or making her sad, and I became disgusted whenever I thought of any girl other than her.

Maybe that was my problem—I wanted change, but couldn't handle it. At any rate, I was just making circles inside my brain and getting _nowhere_.

I heard a gentle knock on my door, and automatically rolled my eyes. Inwardly betting myself ten dollars that it was my dad asking if I wanted to "play a little one-on-one", I mumbled an annoyed, "Come in"

But it was my mom who opened my poster-plastered door. _There's something drastic; I just lost ten bucks to myself_ I couldn't help but think. I didn't take my eye off the ball and let her talk first.

"Troy…are you ever going to clean your room?" she asked gently. I shrugged, rolled my eyes, and did another catch. _Spectacular! _I mocked myself inwardly, my brain putting on the air of a sleazy TV show host. _An absolutely spectacular catch made by Troy Bolton, earning you twenty thousand dollars, congratulations!_

"Not likely"

"Well, here's some inspiration for you; the Evans are going to stay with us for a few months, and Mrs. Evans will be staying in your room," she told me calmly, almost as if she was remarking about how warm it had been lately.

The wall ball smacked me directly in the eye as I sat bolt upright in my bed. "**What???**"


	2. Chapter 1

_I know you guys must think I've ditched fanfiction or something, and I'm really sorry! My family went on a two-week vacation to Silver Bay, NY (lovely place, by the way), and the only internet there was my aunt's really nice laptop. But my parents went on and on about "unplugging for two weeks", so they wouldn't let me get on even to check my e-mail. And the week before that I had youth camp, so obviously I couldn't post then either. The few days in between those two events were crazy—all in all, I'm really sorry about making y'all wait so long for the first chapter!_

_More excuses: The one good thing about having so much time to work on stories (I brought my [internet-less laptop with me to Silver Bay, so I could write all two weeks, hahaha) is that you can really improve the plot/chapters. I've done a lot of writing and am still organizing it into a good story, so bear with me!! I've revamped the prologue a little to make it flow better and make more sense for everyone's sake. If you are still confused, I will go smash my head with a lamp for being so stupid, and revamp the prologue again, and explain it to you in a p.m. Sound good?_

_Anyways, I hope you all like the new chapter!! __**R&R!!!!**_

**Chapter One**

"I believe you have perfect hearing, Troy," my mother answered coolly. "Mrs. Evans and her son Ryan are going to be staying her for a few weeks, and as we have no guest bed, I have offered Mrs. Evans—I mean, Ms. Winters—your own"

And I had wished for change; now my bed wasn't my own anymore. "But where am I going to sleep?"

"Calm down; you won't be camping out in the garage. The couch in the game room folds out into a bed, which you will be sharing with Ryan"

"Wait…why can't Sharpay sleep with her brother and I get my own bed?"

My mom glared at me—for my rudeness, I supposed. "Because Sharpay is in the hospital being treated for a broken neck!"

I blushed slightly; I had had no idea…how was I supposed to know that?

"Are Ms. Winters and Ryan fine, then?" Something about the tone of my voice gave away that I was far less than enthusiastic about having the dramatic dancer sharing my bed, and my mother was not exactly pleased. I knew I was pushing the limits of her patience, but I didn't terribly care.

"**I believe so,**" she answered crisply. "Ms. Winters said that she escaped without a scratch, but Ryan shattered his knee"

"Why is she Ms. _Winters_?" My mom raised an eyebrow.

"I assumed _you _would be able to tell _me_; I can only assume that the twins' parents are divorced"

The idea had never even entered my brain; Sharpay and Ryan's parents being split. I didn't doubt that it was possible, but it just wasn't something you would assume looking at them. I had guessed that lived luxuriously with both of their parents, rolling in dough, not having to worry about things _regular_ people did. Maybe they weren't so unearthly after all.

"And Troy?" I raised my head in response. "Ryan doesn't have very many clothes, so—"

"Why?" I asked, suddenly realizing I hadn't yet that obvious question yet.

"Why does Ryan not have very many clothes, or why are he and his mother staying with us?"

"Both"

"Ms. Winter's house burned down to the ground yesterday morning, and evidently with it all of their clothes"

"Didn't he leave some clothes at his Dad's?"

"I think he took it all with him to his Mom's. But to continue what I was about to say, since he doesn't have very many clothes, could he borrow some of yours?" I didn't get a chance to open my mouth; I suppose it was a rhetorical question. Whether I liked it or not, my closet wasn't my own anymore either.

After decidedly ruining my summer, my mom left the room and I screamed into a nearby pillow; one of the few useful things that Gabbi had taught me in our years together. And it _did_ work.

I hopped out of my bed and decided to go shoot some hoops after all; it would take my mind off of Ryan and his mom staying with us.

I never would have thought it; seeing Ryan looking so unfashionable. He was wearing Walmart jeans, some cheap Target shirt with a local baseball team on it, and cruddy, ancient-looking sneakers. And yet, somehow…he looked really good. It's sort of like something my mom told me about painting a lily—as I looked at Ryan, I realized that once if you just looked at him as himself, without any of the stylish clothes and hats, he didn't look half-bad. _Looks like I have some competition, _I thought in spite myself. His mom looked a bit more composed, but still as though she had been wearing her clothes for several days now.

"Thank you so much, Tracy, for letting us stay with you," Ms. Winters greeted my mom, shaking her hand formerly with her free hand; she had only one, small suitcase. Ryan had a similar one. "Ryan and I will try to stay as unnoticeable as possible and help out in every way we can"

"I assure you, it's no trouble at all," my mother assured her, leading her inside our house. I almost snorted. No trouble for _my mom; _all she had had to do was set up the trundle bed in the game room and she had an extra set of hands to help her around the house. I, on the other hand, had had to clean my room from top to bottom and remake my bed with new, guest sheets, and move everything I needed to survive into the game room. This included my hacky sack, wall ball, xbox and controllers, laptop, clothes, Wildcat Basketball Team poster and calendar (hey; I needed some of me in the room!), and a framed picture of Gabriella. I had also cleaned up my bathroom and moved all my "toiletries" to my college brother's bathroom; that's the one Ryan and I would be _sharing_.

Ever since kindergarten, I had hated sharing. Don't ask me why, I just couldn't bear to share anything. Maybe that's where Sharpay, Gabriella, and I were so alike. Sharpay didn't want to share her role of East High Drama Queen, Gabriella didn't want to share me with _anyone _(not even with my basketball buds), and I didn't like to share my personal things.

I suddenly realized that Ryan was still standing awkwardly out on my front porch, both of our mothers off to go unpack or something. He hadn't been asked either if he wanted to stay with me; both of were shoved into this, whether we liked it or not.

"You'll be staying with me in the game room," I told him, gesturing that he could come inside. "This way"

It was only when I had climbed halfway up the stairs that I noticed Ryan was having issues with his suitcase. Every time he tried to lift the small item and raise his left leg he would wince and immediately lower the leg.

"Oh yeah; you shattered some bone in your knee, right?" He nodded slightly, cheeks flushing. "And you're still healing and stuff?" Another nod. "Here, I'll carry it," I grumbled softly. Walking back down the stairs I took the light suitcase from him so he could use both of his hands to help him get up the stairs.

"Well, this is it," I sighed, dumping his suitcase on his side of the bed. "Not as nice as you're used to, I'm sure, but it's better than nothing"

"Yes," Ryan spoke up, surprising me with a slightly hoarse voice; like he hadn't spoken in a long time. "It's very nice; thank you"

"No problem," I said uncomfortably, aware of the honesty and thankfulness in his tone. For some reason he was acting like he was used to such conditions. Like I had assumed his parents were together, I had assumed that he was used to living in a huge mansion in the rich part of town.

I _really _needed to stop assuming things.

Later that afternoon, all of us (excluding my dad) went to go check up on Sharpay in the hospital. Ms. Winters went in first, and then. Ryan took a much longer time, and then it was my mom and mine's turn. I felt slightly abashed at the sight of Sharpay in a stiff neck cast, her make-up not applied, her normally gleaming hair looking rather limp. But she was still herself; as sharp and cunning as ever. She would up and yelling in a few weeks time, I could tell.

"If it's alright, Mrs. Bolton, I would like to talk to Troy for a few minutes alone." I just caught her last words to my mom. _Crap_, was she still going to flirt with me even in a hospital?

Once my mother had left, Sharpay said snappishly, "Oh for heaven's sake, Bolton, stop acting like I am going to put moves on you from a hospital bed. Come closer, I need to talk about something serious"

_Serious? _**Sharpay**…serious? I wasn't buying it.

"If this is a trick, I swear-"

"Good thing it's not one, then. _Just sit down_!" I followed her order and sat down in a chair nearby her head.

"What do you want?" I gave in.

"It's about Ryan," she began…

I squirmed awkwardly underneath the covers. I could feel Ryan breathing softly a few inches to my left. Every since Sharpay's talk to me in the hospital, I had been dreading the nighttime. Would I be able to fulfill her expectations? I could only wait breathlessly, listening to every sound from my bedmate.

Why couldn't my mom have arranged it so that we didn't have to share beds? Or even the same room? I wasn't used to the responsibility Sharpay had suddenly thrust upon me…and wasn't Ryan gay or something? I could see Gabriella clearly putting one hand on top of the other, wiggling her thumbs and saying, "Awkward Turtle!"

It was just as she said it would be. He slowly started to turn to and fro, muttering incoherently under his breath. My hands felt clammy and sticky against the smooth sheets, but it wasn't the right time yet. I still had to wait. Absolute torture; that's what it was. Absolute torture.

Then it moved on to the next stage. Ryan made my blood turn cold by how pitifully he whimpered; his slow turns transforming into violent thrashes. Almost there, I was now listening intently for the key word.

I slipped over in the bed so that I was facing Ryan. His face was scrunched together, and by the moonlight seeping in through a window nearby I saw tears slipping down his soft features.

Despite the seriousness, I caught this thought before it fully registered itself. _Soft features? What the hell?_ I was more tired than I thought I was.

But then, he did it; the key event I was waiting for. "Sharpay!" he sobbed, his cheeks wet with his tears and sweat. The time had come.

"Shh," I gently shushed, sitting up. Should I hug him? Rub his shoulder? **I had no idea what to do!!** But my arms had a mind of their own; they knew what to do. Instead of manly patting the dreaming guy on the back, they snuck under Ryan's trembling form and carefully scooped him up. Watching like from a third person, I saw my arms gently cradle him and his head fall limply against my bare chest (during the summer, I never slept with a shirt on; too dang hot).

It was only when I did so when I realized how truly petite he was…and how _light_. Geez, the guy weighed practically as much as Gabriella. I wiped away his tears with my thumb and unconsciously hugged him tighter to me. _'Keep talking to him'_, Sharpay had said_. 'Keep reassuring him that you're there and caring.'_

"It's alright, Ryan," I whispered in his ear. "I'm here, you're fine, there's nothing to cry about." Amazingly enough, the awkwardness I had been expecting to wash over me never came. "I'm no Sharpay, Ry," (when had I come up with that nickname?), "but I'm still here. Please don't cry…_please_ stop crying, you're safe." When had my assurances become pleas? "Don't cry; you're safe with me." I held him even closer, trying to convince him some other way that what I was saying was true as I rocked back and forth.

I dug deeper into my memory banks, trying to recall every scrap of information Sharpay had told me. She had mentioned a song if he didn't calm down right away…but what song? Dang it, why could I not remember the song she had made me memorize? _Only the Evans could go back to sleep with a dumb song_, I inwardly grumbled as I wracked my brain.

As Ryan whimpered in my arms again, it came roaring back to me. Not stopping to remember every single lyric, I immediately began to sing softly into his ear. I winced at my out-of-practice voice, but kept plunging ahead.

_When I am down_

_And oh, my soul so weary_

_When troubles come_

_And my heart burdened be_

_Then I am still_

_And wait here in the silence_

_Until you come_

_And sit awhile with me_

_You raise me up_

_So I can stand on mountains_

_You raise me up_

_To walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong_

_When I am on your shoulders_

_You raise me up_

_To more than I can be_

_You raise me up_

_To more than I can be_

The song really wasn't that dumb; it was actually kind of pretty. At any rate, it had the desired affect. Ryan's face was buried in my chest, his breathing once again normal.

It was all over…but I couldn't let go of him just yet. I couldn't. He seemed so fragile and helpless, curled up securely in my arms. The dim light brushed over his short blonde hair and ghosted down his fair skin. I found myself thinking about what long eyelashes he had, how smooth his skin felt against my arms, the natural curve of his cheekbone covered with lingering round cheeks of childhood. I completely took back what I had said earlier about him looking half-bad; in the light of the moon, Ryan looked absolutely _breath-taking._

Shaking my head, I painfully eased him about of my arms and back onto his side of the bed. The slumbering guy didn't stir, but cuddled against the sheets of our bed instead. My arms felt suddenly empty and painfully free…and light.

Pulling the sheets over both of us, I barely stopped myself from groaning aloud. What _were_ these Evans _doing _to me?

It was the sunrays from the game room window that woke me up. My whole body felt afire with the heaviness of sleep, the warmth of the sunrise, and the pillow digging into my back.

Then I realized; I only owned one pillow. And I wasn't sleeping in my bedroom—this was the game room. Twisting my head around, I tried to see what was against my back. My heart ricocheted of my ribs when I saw that in his sleep, Ryan had snuggled against me. What was digging into my back was his nose, or entire face, rather, was pressed cozily against my back.

'_I warn you;' _Sharpay had said, _'sometimes Ryan tends to snuggle against people he shares a bed with. I have no idea why he does that…it's just one of those weird things he does unconsciously'_

I cautiously wriggled away from him, crossing my fingers that I wouldn't disturb him. I didn't. Sliding out of the covers, I tiptoed downstairs to figure out breakfast.

About fifteen minutes later, rubbing an eye, yawning, and hair askew, Ryan came down to eat.

"What'dya want?" I mumbled groggily. "We got Kix, HoneyComb, pancake mix, microwave waffles…"

"Do you have a bran muffin?" he asked while stifling another yawn. That was one thing we evidently had in common; we were both not morning people. But then…had he seriously just asked for a _bran muffin?_

"Er…no," I answered uncomfortably. "How about toast?"

"That works," he conceded. "Where's the butter and bread?"

"Butter's on a shelf inside the door of the fridge and the bread is on the counter over there"

Seventeen minutes into breakfast and Ryan hadn't said another word. Being the extremely talkative person I was, I tried to start up a conversation.

"There's a party tonight at Amy Chang's. You wanna come?"

He just looked at me directly in the eyes. What had I said? I shifted nervously in my seat.

"Sure," he at last said, and then took his half-full plate over to the counter where the sink was.

I had never told anyone, but I didn't like big parties. And by that I mean _hate with a burning passion_. I knew in the pit of my stomach I would regret going to Amy's party, but I went anyways. That was my job as East High's most popular guy; go to every event whether you really want to or not.

Amy had a huge pool out back, but sadly tonight we couldn't put any use to it—it was raining up at storm (literally). I scampered to shelter outside her house (Ryan pottered after me; he couldn't move very fast with that knee of his), and when Gabriella opened the door I could tell she wasn't overjoyed to see who had accompanied me. But Ryan made himself scarce and disappeared into the crowd—unlike me, who was at once swarmed over by affectionate friends. I inwardly promised myself to make Ryan teach me that talent…that whole disappearing unnoticed into the crowd. It sounded very pleasant at the moment.

Whatever I had been expecting, I hadn't expected the dance floor to be so crowded. You couldn't move a hair or you would have grinding girls bumping their hips against you. I could tell the rest of the guys were highly enjoying the view…but tonight, I wasn't one of them. I felt repulsed and disgusting by their obvious sluttyness, if that's even a word, and somehow managed to squeeze myself out of the mosh pit and make my way over to the bar.

"What would you like?" said the man working behind the counter. And I had thought the _Evans _were rich! "Licker, Whiskey, Budlight, we've got everything"

What the hell? I had just wanted an ice water or something! "Never mind," I said bluntly. Looking rather annoyed, the man moved on to his next customer.

Not wanting in the least to rejoin the hellish mash on the dance floor, I decided to check to see if the rain had stopped. To my great relief, it had. Breathing contentedly, I let myself out a sliding door and walked alone on the wet deck. It felt so relaxing just to suck in the cool, night air, soak in the smell of the rain-washed deck.

Right when I felt like I was _really_ sleepwalking, a load commotion from further down the pool deck disturbed me. "Stupid drunks," I grumbled under my breath and made my way to the riffraff.

As I got closer, I noticed that it was five guys about my age, and that they were trying to throw someone in the pool. The person in their arms was putting up a pretty impressive fight; kicking and thrashing wildly.

"Hey guys, knock it off," I sighed, rolling my eyes again. "Let-" But I cut myself off when I saw who they were trying to throw in. **Ryan**.

It seemed that once I stopped talking, the guys figured I had left or something, so they started edging towards the pool again. Ryan almost didn't need my help, for he was significantly slowing them down.

"Come on, you baby, it's just a little water," one the guys chortled. I had to agree with them, but also saw why a guy would get upset to be tossed in with all clothes on.

But Ryan was seriously spazzing out now, his eyes wide with terror and starting to swim with tears, and his flailing become more and more desperate. What was this guy's problem?

"Dudes, seriously; **put him down** before he pops a blood vessel or something." Shrugging surrender, the four unstable boys put Ryan down safely on the pool deck. He at once sprinted (at quickly as he could with a knee in a stiff brace) over to a corner of the deck, as far away from the water as possible. The teenagers walked off, snickering to themselves.

"You okay, Ryan?" I asked, still unable to believe he had freaked out that much over getting wet. Instead of answering me, I was shocked to hear a whimper. As I peered through the shadows, I saw that he was rocking back and forth, clutching his knees to his chest. "_Ryan?_"

"I'm fine," he croaked, his own trembling voice betraying him.

"No you're not; what's the matter?" He didn't respond, but stared in horror in the direction of the pool. "Are you afraid of pools or something?" He shook his head gently, still not looking at me in the face. "Then what's the problem?" Ryan just shivered.

It took me ages to convince him to tell me, but at last he did. As it turned out, Ryan was hydrophobic, or afraid of water. With a lot more convincing, I discovered that it wasn't all water; he was fine with rain, showers, bathtubs, puddles, sinks, etc, but it was the big, deep ones that got to him. Like oceans, pools, lakes…big stuff. He could survive being nearby semi-close to it, as long as he wasn't in immediate danger of actually being in it.

He hadn't answered immediately, or spoken very fast. That was one thing I was starting to learn about Ryan, he never answered immediately. He always thought good and long before he answered anything, so what he said and did was never rash or unexpected. If you looked into his eyes, it was like you could see tiny gears clinking away in his brain. That, plus the air blue glow from in his eyes was enough to keep me glued to his face and hanging upon his every word. Unlike when I talked to Gabriella, who—as pretty as she was—did not keep me captivated with every syllable she uttered. Don't get me wrong, she could be downright hot if she felt like it.

But maybe that was the problem. It was _when she felt like it_…it didn't come naturally to her. Everything about Ryan was so natural; his wheat gold hair, those sky ears, pure sand white skin—alright, now I was **officially **freaking myself out. What was I in, a Language Arts class or something?? "Or something," was my brain's automatic response.

I really hated my brain sometimes.

About a half hour later, I was right back to where I hated being; on the dance floor. Surrounded on every side, girls grinding every square inch, Gabriella dancing like a complete whore…what was not to hate?!

I felt like my lungs were going to pop right then and there. My chest was pounded, my head throbbing, and I could almost feel my face turning blue. If I wasn't careful, I was going to pass out not only _on the dance floor_ but in front of the _entire East High student body_.

Somebody grabbed my wrist, and I barely bit back a shriek. I couldn't see who it was, but whoever they were, they were dragging me through the grotesque partiers and now past them, and now over to a chair far away from the crowd.

"Just breathe deeply," they told me. Quite honestly, I was glad they did, because I really needed to be reminded to breathe. Gasping for breath, my heart at last returned to its normal speed and my lungs found their way back inside my chest. I at last looked into the face of my rescuer, and not for the first time that evening was shocked.

"Ryan!" I stuttered. "How…how...?"

"You looked like I felt by the pool," he said simply, and even rewarded me with a small smile. "You need some water." He abruptly stood up and left, not even giving me enough time to thank him for what he had done.

Once he was out of my eyesight, I pondered over his words. How accurate had he been? Was I afraid of crowds like he was afraid of water? But who was I kidding; Troy Bolton is **never** afraid of **anything**...or at least, he wasn't. It wasn't so much a fear _of_ them…it was a fear of being squished _in_ them.

Then the migraine hit me. It felt like someone had dropped a butt-load of bricks on my head and were hammering nails in with them. My eyes practically rolled back in my head with the excruciating pain. When Ryan returned, it was _his _turn to be worried and confused.

"Just…a…headache," I moaned, my head in my hands, feeling like crying in pain. Which was, of course, out of the question, because Troy Bolton never cried…at least, he didn't in front of people.

"You really need to go home"

"But the party—" I protested.

"—Will be no fun if you're curled up in a corner moaning." He had a point there. "You're going home"

"You don't have to come with—"

"Yes I do. You're my ride, remember?" Curse him.

"So are you going to drive us home?"

Surprisingly, he shook he head fervently no, his blood draining from his face. "The last time I drove, I killed a man. Never make me drive again." So that would be a _no_; his driving hand was a _little_ shaky.

When my mother arrived, with Ryan as my guide holding my arm, we made our way down to the minivan, not even bothering to say goodbye to our host. By the looks of it, Ryan wasn't too fond of parties—or our host, for that matter—either. Ryan helped me lower myself into the passenger seat and recline it as far back as it would go. And then I could hear my mom helping ease Ryan into another seat farther back. I had almost completely forgotten about his knee problems when I leaned on his arm for support with my migraine…

This was going to be an interesting vacation.

_So, what think? Tell me everything. As I have said many times before, I love __looong__ reviews. __**R&R, **__lovely readers!_

_Another note:: I am currently working on updating _Eastside Story_and _Sky Golden. _I just need to add a few more pages to each. And hopefully I will be spitting out some more songfics (and possibly a new story; I have a lot on my plate right now, though). Like I said, I did a __lot__ of writing in the two weeks—just not all of it on one thing. Keep a weather eye on the…alert page, I guess, haha._


	3. Chapter 2

_Sorry for the wait (excuse time!). I had to cram all my summer reading and write journals for both books and am still working on the essay (my school starts tomorrow), and then I had my geometry exam last Friday (more major cramming; I had had to take it through the internet over summer, bleah). Now that I have all that nasty business behind me and endless school hours to scribble away in my notebook, I should be updating faster :) Don't give up on me yet!_

_I realized another weird thing today—I use many of the exact same phrases in different stories! And even the same stories! I mean, I know I've done that numerous times, but I didn't realize that __Memory__ and __To Not Care__ almost end with the same sentence! GAAAH, I hate that!!! I'm so mad at myself for not being more creative ____ stupid brain_

_A few notes to reviewers: _

_**Dark Angel Kira**__- Thank you so much for the advice!! I always need someone smacking me on the back of the head with real facts and advice, so thank you so much for being honest! And I'm glad you like the story_

_**StillThereForMe**__ - Something really odd: you know, when I read your review my first response was "What the hell are night terrors?" I had completely made up Ryan's symptoms and passed it off as bad nightmares from his past (a.k.a., his dad). My first conclusion was that you were talking about Troy freaking out on the dance floor. But later, when I looked at it again, I realized you were talking about Ryan. Completely confused, I searched it on Google (that thing is so dang handy). I read up all sorts of information about it on a website dedicated to it and realized how I really __had__ given Ryan "night terrors" without realizing it, and how creepily accurate it was. Isn't that so weird??? So now I shall pretend in the next few chapters that I had planned for him to have them all along and didn't accidentally stumble upon a sleeping disorder, haha. [Oh yes; and thank you very much for the compliment about this not being a "typical Tryan story", to paraphrase it. That is one of the BIGGEST compliments a fanfic writer can get, so thank you __very__ much. I hope not to dissappoint you_

_**Ann**__- aack, I know! I __love__ Josh Groban, he's so amazing. I'm addicted to his CD and listen to it constantly._

**Mizer Manakins**- _yes indeed, I do know that I needn't put a "copyright", but my dad pointed out to me that I can copyright the story itself, if not the characters, so I can sue anyone if they steal my ideas, heehee_

_And after that extremely long "author's note", here's Chapter 2. Don't forget to review!_

**Chapter Two**

About two mornings later, right after I had returned home from shooting some hoops with Chad, I found my room empty.

"Hey mom; where's Ryan?"

"At the physical therapist's"

"Say what?"

"Physical therapist, dear. His knee is hurt, remember?" How did I always seem to forget that important fact? "He goes to a physical therapist once every week so he can strengthen and heal his knee"

"Oh," was all I managed to say, feeling stupider by the minute.

"Speaking of which," my mom began, starting to look awkward, "I was rather hoping that you would go along to Ryan's session next week"

"Why on earth would I want to do that??" I asked, horrified.

"Because I think it would be a lot easier on the Evans'—I mean Winters', oh whatever—pocketbook if **you** did Ryan's physical therapy instead of an expensive professional!"

I gaped idiotically at her. _Me give Ryan physical therapy?_**Was she out of her mind??? **All sorts of interesting and rather unpleasant ideas popped into my head, considering I had pretty much no real idea what physical therapists did in those sessions...but one look at my mom's face and I knew the matter had already been decided. Te-freaking-rrific.

The first session I accompanied him to I was surprised how much crying, whimpering, and grunting was involved. I suppose I was surprised how much…well…_physical _touch was involved in _physical therapy. _I felt even dumber than before, watching the professional work Ryan's knee as he (he being Ryan, not the therapist) cried out in obvious discomfort; knowing the whole time that **I **would have to be doing the same in a few weeks time. Oh joy.

I was sincerely glad there was no way in the world my sarcastic friends could see me being taught step-by-step how to work on Ryan's knee; stretching it out, now pushing it against his chest, then pushing it right and left. The therapist was delighted I seemed to have picked up on it quickly just the first session, while I wanted nothing more than to sink into the tile on which I stood. If you take into consideration that I had no clue as to what Ryan's sexual interests were, and how little I truly knew him, you might get a vague idea of the discomfort I was experiences. I would get my mother for this. Stupid parents.

"I'm seriously considering running away from home," I complained to Gabriella s we walked hand-in-hand through the park. "Even my own room isn't my own, for Christ's sake!"

"Troy," Gabbi said sternly, squeezing my hand a bit too tight for comfort. "You know it's not a good idea to run away from home, and you promised that you would stop swearing"

"Sorry," I mumbled, but wasn't about to let my guilt stop me from venting. "It's just that a guy has to have a place of his own, ya know? And as home is no longer a safe place away from people, I might as well live someplace else"

"Be sensible!" my girlfriend insisted firmly. "Where would you live; on the streets?"

"It'd be farther away from Ryan!" I burst out. "I don't know what to think about him! One second I'm positive that he annoys the heck out of me, and the next…" And the next second I'm possessively holding him close to my chest and chasing away whatever haunts him in the night, rubbing my hand across his back; wanting to do nothing more than to comfort him to the greatest extent I can.

Gabriella seemed perturbed by my sudden cut off. "And the next what?"

"The next I don't think he that bad," I whispered softly, inwardly crossing my fingers that nothing in my voice would give away all I had been entrusted with.

"Troy…can I say something?" she asked timidly after a moment's silence.

I resisted the strong urge to reply with a smart-aleck _'You just did'_. "Go right ahead"

"I really understand how you're trying to get close to Ryan and everything because you're living with him, but lately that's all you've ever been talking about. First you rave about how he drives you insane, and then you go on about how different he is than his sister. I just think it's only fair to warn you that he **is** an Evans"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, starting to get slightly annoyed.

"That means Ryan's not to be trusted!" Gabriella said with surprising testiness in her voice. "You've seen yourself how easily Sharpay controls everyone around her and doesn't give a second thought to feelings…and well, Ryan _is_ her _twin—_"

"So you think he's just like her?" I snapped in spite of all my caution.

"I'm not saying their exactly alike, but—I mean, Troy…they were raised by the same parents! Why should they be any different?"

I couldn't speak. I didn't even know what I would say if I could have spoken. Half of me—the regular half of me—was playing the part of the loyal, listening boyfriend and agreeing with the sense in her words. But some new part of me—some new, extremely loud and insisting part of me—was shaking with fury that Gabriella _dare_ make such a presumption. I didn't know which side to listen to, and was confused altogether by the second meaning. I had never before been truly angry with Gabbi, so I had no idea how to handle the feeling.

"Troy?"

My mouth still wouldn't open. I tried to give her a satisfactory nod to ease her worries, but nothing happened. Marvelous. I managed to give her a small smile.

"Yah, I guess you're right," I squeaked, choking on every word. Since when was lying so stupidly hard?

She seemed satisfied. Wow she was trusting. And that made me feel all the better, of course. Relaxing her vice grip on my hand, Gabriella gently tugged me towards her, eyeing me with that suggestive cute look she always has. Rolling my eyes and grinning, I obeyed her wish and took her face in my hands so I could kiss her more efficiently.

"Tickets to _what_?"

"STOMP. It's a band of talented musicians using all sorts of different things to make out really cool beats, and Mrs. Hales really recommended it! I think you would love it, Troy!"

"But why does Ryan have to come along?" I whined to my mother. "Why can't take Chad, or somebody who I would have more fun with?"

"Because you haven't done anything alone with Ryan, and I think you two should get to know each other!"

"But we're basically living together already!"

"Exactly! You two should get out of everyday surroundings and get to know each other so that you can stand living together under one roof!"

"But—"

"That's enough with the 'buts', Troy," my mother cut me off sternly. "Please just do it for _my_ sake, if you don't believe it's for your own good"

"I don't believe it is," I grumbled to the ground grumpily.

"Then you will do it for my sake"

"What if I don't want to?"

The last sentence I hadn't meant to reach her ears; so, of course, it did. "**Then you do it because I am your mother and I tell you that you are going!**"

Swearing a blue streak under my breath, I marched huffily up to my room and slammed the door, only to turn to a confused Ryan sitting cross legged on our bed. What he had been doing there, I had no idea.

"**What?**" I snapped, not pleased to see him in my refuge. He just shrugged, which only made me madder. Was it like against some freaking religion to just talk?? Biting my tongue from cursing him verbally, I turned on my heel and glared at the wall, determined to give the irritating kid the cold shoulder.

"I could pretend to be sick, you know," Ryan murmured softly. My head snapped up.

"_Huh?_"

"I could pretend to be sick—then your mom will have no choice but to let you see STOMP with Chad"

I stared at him. He had heard the entire conversation…and wasn't sore about it?! But judging by his eyes, which were innocently wide, Ryan really had heard every aspect of the argument between my mom and me, and was trying to help me get what I wanted.

I stared at him with a more thoughtful glance this time. Was he really trying to be helpful, or did he have some sort of angle going? Every way I looked at it, the only thing Ryan could gain from this was a quiet evening with the bedroom to himself. To do what? He didn't touch the Xbox or TV…probably all he go to sleep, for crying out loud. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Ryan out of the way, Chad and I free to have a good time going to a concert. Neither of us had gone to a concert in ages, and we both loved music.

I grinned happily at Ryan.

"This just might work…thanks"

He didn't smile back.

"No problem"

Chad and I chortled over our dinners at the Firehouse Grill.

"That was the coolest thing I've seen in several months, man," Chad said through a mouthful of food. "Thanks for inviting me"

"Thank Ryan," I laughed, stuffing a fry in my mouth. "He pretended to be _sick_ for me so that you can go to STOMP with me tonight. My mom wanted him to go with me so we could 'build a relationship' or something stupid"

"Ryan did that? Wow…I thought he hated us"

I shrugged. "I guess not as much as we thought. Honestly, though, he isn't as bad as I thought he was going to be. I mean, the guy doesn't do anything other than sleep and eat"

"Don't even try to understand that show dog family; I gave up years ago"

We ate in silence for a little while, enjoying the hockey game on TV and the good food.

"Do you have idea of how long Ryan and his mom will be staying at you guys' place?" Chad finally asked. I shrugged again.

"Until his mom can support the family, I suppose. My mom's always out helping Ms. Winters—"

"Who's that?"

"Oh, right. That's the twins' mom; their parents divorced ages ago, apparently"

"Really?" Chad munched on his hot dog thoughtfully. "…You wouldn't really think so looking at them, would'ya?"

"No," I agreed, sighing. "You wouldn't"

"So where's their dad in all of this?" he asked innocently, taking another slurp of his chocolate milkshake.

Instead of answering right away, I paused. I knew exactly where their father was, but something was holding my tongue. I couldn't get rid of the feeling that neither of the twins would be all to pleased with me for telling their not-so-close friend that their father was dead and rotting in a cemetery because of a car wreck. Not to mention that Ryan had been driving the car when it happened.

"I dunno," I replied, deciding that playing dumb and lying was the best option here. "Probably running away from Sharpay." Oddly, that night making fun of Sharpay wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it had been on nights beforehand.

Luckily for me, Chad bought it. "Yah," he snorted, picking up his hot dog again. "Probably"

I let out an inaudible sigh. I had won this round. Would I have to do another one? I **really** hoped not; standing up for the twins really wore a guy out.

Much later into the evening, I yawned and glanced at my cell phone. That was a huge mistake; my tired eyes practically fell out of my head and onto 6th street's pavement in shock. Obviously, my codfish expression was enough to catch Chad's attention.

"What's up?" he questioned curiously.

"Erm…" I had used up all my brain cells trying to come up with a lie earlier. "I should really be getting home; I just realized what time it was"

"Why do you need to be home before midnight?" Chad asked in a humorous manner, glancing at one of his three watches. "Your mom usually lets you stay out 'til two"

Usually I would agree with him. I loved staying out late and enjoying myself with my friends; exalting in our care-free, unworried lives. But now I had something I wasn't quite used to—a responsibility. A responsibility entrusted to me by a girl lying in the hospital with a broken neck who would make my life a living hell so much as look at me if I neglected that responsibility. From past experience, that responsibility was tossing at turning by 11:30 at the latest…at right now the clock on my cell phone read 11:38. It took at least ten minutes to get home—you do the math.

Lying had always been second nature to me. I mean heck, lying is second nature to any human, especially a teenager. But not one sensible excuse would enter my brain that night as I tried to act vaguely responsible on a Saturday night. Why would good, decent lies never come when I needed them lately?

Chad seemed greatly disturbed by my guttural noises of distress and senseless pieces of sentences. "I mean, I could drop you off at home, if it's **that** big a deal to you…" All I could manage was a warm smile and a firm nod, using all the captain influence I could muster during summer vacation. Was this to be a repeat of my date with Gabriella; when it came time to lie about the Evans, I gurgle idiotically and have a humongous brain blank. This wasn't looking too good.

Hurriedly thanking Chad for the ride, I let myself in and resisted the urge to sprint into the house. I forced my legs into a steady walk, not wanting to discomfort my best friend further. It's not like Ryan would die if I was a few more minutes late, or that his well-being was at the top of my priorities list. Why had I had the sudden panic attack anyways? Looking back, I could scarcely believe I had talked myself into cutting off what had looked to be a fun evening just so Ryan would have help getting over some stupid nightmare.

But my mind automatically contradicted me as I tiptoed up the stairs and into the game room. I knew what I had to do, and I knew it was important. They weren't "stupid nightmares", because they didn't even act like nightmares. Nightmares happen in light sleep and people can usually remember them in the morning. Ryan's…nightmare-like spasms happened when he was dead asleep and he never remembered anything in the morning. And nightmares didn't make you howl and moan about something you don't understand; the only thing Ryan ever mentioned was the dark form of a man. Yet that man was enough to fling the small guy into hysterics, though nothing in Ryan's normal patterns hinted as to why that would be. But again, who really knew. Ryan kept so much to himself it was getting harder to tell what the guy thought about any more.

As I had feared, it had already started. The sheets were hopelessly tangled around Ryan's body and his armed flailed dangerously close to the edge. His yelps of discomfort were becoming louder by the second, so I practically threw myself in the bed next to him and automatically wrapped my arms tightly around him. I really didn't need my parents coming in and discovering what Sharpay had tried to keep a secret for goodness knows how long.

"H-h-he's r-right th-th-th-there," Ryan whimpered into my shoulder.

"I know he is," I assured him; I had learned a while back that it only upset him more for me to disagree with him. "I'm right here, you'll be fine"

"B-b-b-b-b-but h-he—"

"Yes, but I'm right here. He won't harm you, I promise. I'll protect you." I gently shushed him, resting my hand against his _freezing_ cheek. A person would think that his temperature would rise, as if in a fever; but this was no fever. God knew if **I **had any idea what the hell I was dealing with anymore, or even **who** I was dealing with.

What was a guy who spent a good chunk of the school year playing basketball to do with a kid who had spasms of meaningless terror at midnight with a dropped temperature and no memory of the nightly horrors that made his body shake with sobs and soak his pillow with tears? The only way I was involved with this at all was because of the stupid house fire. The nerve of it all, throwing me into a family problem I had no idea how to handle. It was ridiculous.

How I would have loved to take out my frustration on my roommate, but therein lay the problem; it was practically impossible to get mad at Ryan. Frustrated, certainly, but you couldn't get truly mad at him. As much as I hated him for being so complicated and confusing my entire summer I wouldn't entrust anyone else (with the obvious exception of Sharpay) to look after his spasms and sing the same peaceful song to drive his unexplained fright away. I would have bet my Xbox 360 that before long, when it was just me giving him physical therapy, the ways things were going I would become possessive of that right too. Damn him, but I was actually growing a little—I repeat, a LITTLE—attached to him, which I could not afford. That would make things even way more complicated than they already were. Crud. I had **really** let things get out of control.

I glared down at Ryan's now peaceful form.

"Damn you," I hissed before pressing my cheek against his damp forehead. "Damn you"

_Sorry this chapter is so short…and kind of boring. I was trying to think of good filler material to add another page, but nothing came to mind. Don't worry, LOTS of _"interesting"_ things will be happening in the next chapter –evil laugh– But now comes the time for audience participation. __**What do you think should happen in the next chaper? **__I am currently debating whether or not to have a huge build-up of their friendship first or kind of have growing friendship plunged into romance right away? Because I pretty much have the whole "beginning of romance" scene written out. I wrote it like a month ago and then decided to move it later to the story—so I have about three or four pages of story just sitting there needing to be placed into chapters somewhere. So the next chapter will be about Troy and Ryan's growing friendship (which will be so cute and fun to write, teehee), but the real question is should it include any beyond-friend attraction? __**Looonnnggg reviews please, as always :) Thank you all so much for reviewing!!!!**__ [The usual reviews I get for a chapter on other stories are about 7 a chapter, so I'm practically crying with happiness seeing so many reviews!! –bawls- I feel so loved now_


	4. Chapter 3

_Ehh, more lame excuses. So much stupid school work, and I got a tiny brain block. A bit more action in this chapter, but less than I had planned. I'm afraid all I can say is wait until the next chapter; I wrote a lot of chapter four several weeks ago, planning to put it in for like chapter two before figuring that was waaaay to earlier ____ I'm going to be safe and not guarantee immediate update, but hopefully it will be sooner. I'll just have to wait and see_

_I know have an awesome little notebook that I always write in whenever I have any extra time at school (hell, I write in it even when we are doing stuff). Most of the teachers think me, being a "A" student, am taking notes, so they don't bug me. –evil laugh—haha, silly teachers. I ain't complaining, though; I wrote a good chunk of this chapter in school. Go sophomores!_

_So here's the next chapter. Don't forget to __**R&R!!**__ As always, long reviews are lovely._

**Chapter Three**

"Troy, I am going to need you and Ryan to run some errands for me"

"Why does Ryan have to come??" God I sounded like a preschooler, but right then I seriously didn't care.

"Because you two **still** need to get to know each other. Besides, Ryan needs crutches for his knee"

"We don't own any? Dad never sprained his ankle in college or anything?

"No. Now, here's the list of the stores and the things you need to get. If you can't find a decent pair of crutches at Big Lots, try the Dollar Store or Salvation Army"

"_Fine_"

Thus was I scammed by my own mother into shopping at least five hours with Ryan. Believe me, I would much rather have spent the time hanging out with my basketball crew, but I was having no luck with that lately.

I pulled my ancient pick-up to a halt in front of our first stop; Big Lots. Our mission; find crutches for Ryan.

We made our way past all the 80s shirts, puny shorts, and ridiculous hats to the section where most of the big items were. Surprisingly, there were at least five pairs of decent crutches with price tags leaning up against an old grandfather clock.

"Just pick out the one you want," I said, flopping down on a brown couch. However, I had forgotten that it was Big Lots; many of the items had been there since before I was born. The couch had long since lost its stability, so my attempt to relax comfortably and let Ryan do the work led to me had the end result of me having a fabulous face-plant encounter with the hard flooring.

I heard a snort above me. With unbelieving eyes I looked up at Ryan, but his face was perfectly composed. Yet I had the strongest feeling that it was he who had failed for a second to contain his amusement at my misfortune. I would almost have thought him serious, except that I had an uncanny sense that he was laughing at me behind his eyes.

"What?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"Nothing," he replied placidly and turned back to the crutches, looking for a way to change the subject. "What do you think?" He was leaning on a pair of humongous crutches that only a giant would have looked comfortable against.

"**Way** too tall," I said bluntly, grinning a little. "You would look like a monkey on trapeze"

Ryan's eyebrows furrowed—I had lost him. "Like a _what_?"

"Like a monkey on a trapeze…you know, those little furry things you see swinging around in circuses?"

"I've never been to a circus," he said slowly. I burst out laughing, but hastily turned it into a cough. I couldn't believe it...he was serious.

"_Never?_"

He shrugged, and picked out another pair of crutches.

That was the last straw. I'm afraid I exploded.

"**Would it ****kill**** you to say more than three sentences in one day?**"

"_What_?" Ryan asked bewilderedly.

"**Any time I ask you a question or talk to you at all, you never really talk back. The most you've ever said at one time is three words! Why don't you ever talk?!**" I panted heavily; glad to get that small topic off my chest at last.

He mumbled something that my ears didn't catch.

"Say what?"

"I didn't think…well, that you'd actually listen, I guess," he murmured bashfully, his cheeks aflame.

"Oh," I said softly, caught completely off guard by his answer. "I mean, why wouldn't I listen?"

He shrugged again. Seeing my infuriated expression, he hurried to add, "No one cared to listen, I guess"

We were making progress. That had been a whole two sentences now. "That's not true—you had Sharpay"

"She was never there to listen." The hollowness in his eyes was seriously creeping me out now. "She meant well, of course…she just doesn't know how to react"

"React to what?"

It took him a while to answer.

"Anything that ruined her dream"

_What dream? _Great; now that I was getting Ryan to talk, what he was saying made absolutely no sense at all. This was more stuff I was going to have to get used to.

Ryan snapped me out of my revere by moving towards the cast register on the third pair of crutches. "These will do"

After I had purchased the crutches, we both climbed into my ratty old truck. I pulled out of the small shopping mall and onto the feeder.

"Where to next?" Ryan asked in quiet voice. I was starting to suspect that was his regular volume.

"I dunno…feeling like grabbing something to eat?"

"Sure." There he went again with one-word sentences.

I went to the only logical restaurant where that I knew everybody liked; McDonalds. Unless, of course, you were fat-a-phobic, or whatever.

"What do you want?" I asked Ryan at the drive-in. "A burger?"

"No thanks; I don't eat meat"

My eyes almost popped out of my head. For what; the millionth time that summer I was spending with an Evans?

"**You don't eat meat?**"

"Umm…no?" Ryan laughed nervously, rubbing his right arm. "Shar's rattled on so much about how people kill little animals…"

I snorted. "So you want a meat-free salad?" He nodded, his cheeks still faintly flushed.

McDonald bags in hand, I parked the car and we ate our lunch at a table outside the mall. Many of the stores my mother had sent me to buy things at were in there, so it was the handiest place to stop for lunch at. I suppose I could have saved time by eating at the food court, but whatever. Who thinks that far ahead?

"Damn it," I swore as I spilled ketchup and mustard all down my front. "That's gonna leave a stain"

"Go wash it off in the fountain," Ryan said, sounding amused. So maybe he was easing up a little bit on me. Rolling my eyes and slightly grinning, I walked over to the large fountain.

Twelve minutes later, Ryan walked over next, to me, one eyebrow raised. "Experiencing technical difficulties?"

"Yeah; it won't come out!" I grumbled, splashing a small amount of fountain water on the bottom of my shirt. "Stupid ketchup." The next thing I knew, from the waist up I was soaking wet. "**What was that for?**" I tried to sound angry as I brushed my hair out of my eyes, but instead it turned into a laugh.

"You needed to use more water," Ryan said innocently, his face blank. Again, I would have fallen for his act if it wasn't for those eyes…

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you spilled some salad dressing on your shirt. Here, let me help"

"Troy, don't—aargh!" Ryan attempted to hold up his arms, but it was no good; he got soaked anyways.

He splashed me back. I splashed him again. He splashed me again. What were we; five-year-olds? Because only five-year-olds could have had that much fun stupidly splashing each other with fountain water in front of so many staring people.

We were sharply jolted back into reality when my cell phone sounded loudly in my pocket. I dried my hands on my jeans and saw that it was Gabriella calling. Smiling, I felt up my index finger for Ryan to wait for a second, and flicked it open.

"Hey babe"

"Hello Troy," she said warmly.

"What's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping or something this afternoon"

"Sorry; can't. My mom sent me on some errands, so I'm booked for the afternoon"

"Are you doing the errands at the mall?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then I can meet you there! You can still do your errands, and have someone to talk with!"

Speaking of talking, way too much was happening on her end. "But I—"

"See you soon!" I heard a click at the other end. Sighing, I pocketed the phone. I loved Gabbi and all, but honestly that girl could manipulate a guy sometimes. My mom would **kill** me if she found out that my girlfriend had joined me in errands. I turned back to Ryan, only to find that he wasn't there.

"Ryan?" I looked around, trying to find where he had gone. I rediscovered him hopping dangerously on one foot over to the table in the grass where we had left. "Hey, dude, careful, it's really muddy—damn it!"

I had spoken a second too late. Ryan had already slipped on the gooey mud and crashed to the hard ground. A couple nearby chortled.

"Oh shut up," I snapped at them as I rushed to help Ryan to his feet and handed him his crutches (which had been leaning safely against the picnic table only a few feet away). In my mind, I apologized to them politely for snapping, but I didn't actually say anything. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Ryan mumbled with a tomato red face.

"Why don't we just quick drive home, you throw on some new clothes, and get back to shopping?"

"Erm…" Ryan faded into silence for the umpteenth time.

"What now?" I asked impatiently, already on my way to the truck.

"I only have two other pairs of clothes…one is full of holes and my pajamas, and the other…is in the wash," he muttered, embarrassed. He was rubbing his right arm again. I assumed it was something he did whenever he was uncomfortable. I did give him kudos for saying a fairly long string of words, though.

"Well," I conceded, giving up my last bite of ownership, "my mom said that you might be short on clothes. You can borrow some of mine"

"Are you sure?" he asked uneasily.

"I'm positive." If he didn't watch it, he would talk me out of it. "Now come on; get in the car"

It was only when I pulled into our driveway that I remembered Gabriella. She would be so pissed that I wasn't at the mall when she got there…but for right now, she wasn't there, so I could breathe freely for a few more minutes.

I tossed Ryan a pair of dark jeans I had outgrown in the seventh grade, figuring that was bound to fit even him, and tossed him blue shirt I vaguely remembered buying at Abercrombie. "Try these on for size"

My estimate had been right; my peace didn't last for long. Gabriella called me on my cell phone, and I had truly never heard her so mad.

"I'm sorry; I ruined my clothes so I had to come home and change!" I said for the millionth time, wondering why she refusing to understand today. It wasn't like her. Normally, it was me who was always being a little on the edge and impatient, but for some unexplained reason we had switched places.

"But you promised you would be there! Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't think I would take that long," I protested meekly, figuring anything I said would only dig me a deeper ditch. This, considering she was a female, was fairly accurate.

"I just wish you would keep your promises," she sniffled. I barely stopped myself from groaning aloud. Was it a crime to go get a change of clothes? So I _was_ bending the truth a little; it was Ryan who was getting new clothes, but I was almost certain that if I brought that up now the situation would only get worse.

"I have to go; my mom's calling me. I'll call you back, 'k?" I lied beautifully. Not that I wouldn't call her back; I would…but my mom wasn't calling me. I just wanted the agitating phone call to end already.

"Alright," Gabriella whimpered. Unconsciously, my mind zoomed to my roommate whimpering pathetically at the dead of night. With that image in my head, somehow I didn't soften up for her crying-act as I usually did. For that matter, normally I didn't think of it as an act either. What was wrong with me? "Bye," Gabbi sighed mournfully.

"Bye," I grunted, hurriedly closing the phone before my mind weirded (I doubt that's even a word) me out further. A creak at the door to the game room announced Ryan's entrance.

It was a very odd feeling, seeing Ryan in my clothes. It reminded me of when my mother and I had gone to the circus when I was younger and wandered into the Fun House. When I first stepped into the hallway of mirrors, I was scared by what I saw in the mirrors. The person looking back at me had my clothes on, my hair color, and my eyes…but it wasn't me. It took my mother several tries to get me to open my eyes, and many more to convince me that the mirror was bent so that the image would appear disproportionate.

That was kind of what looking at Ryan in my clothes was like. He had on my pants and shirt…but he was so vastly different from me that it was a little scary. Obviously he didn't have my hair, eye, or skin color—but just his very presence was different. To brag for a minute, my presence in a room is much more natural and silly; like I wandered into there without meaning to and decided to make the best of it. Ryan was very well aware of where he was, what he was doing, and what he was thinking.

Another big thing; there wasn't any laughter in his face. I was pretty much always in a good mood, and I didn't bother to pretend differently. As old Darbus would put it, "I wore my feelings proudly out on my face". Like at the mini-splash-fight earlier, if you could call it that; I was laughing and enjoying myself immensely. When I looked back on the event, I didn't recall Ryan physically laughing, chortling, giggling, what have you; it was all in the eyes. He didn't wear his emotions out on his face; you had to unlock his eyes to take a peak at them. Sadly, for obvious reasons, at night during the spasms his eyes were squeezed firmly shut, trying to block everything happening in his mind from escaping through his eyes. Almost like the strong man fighting off leopards with a chair at the circus many years ago, Ryan was shoving down his memories deep, deep, inside himself…only I think he had been pushing them a bit to far recently. He was bound to pop sometime.

"Do you have a belt I could borrow?"

I stared first at his face, trying to distinguish if he could possibly be serious. The hints I got from his** eyes **(of course) proved to assure my claims. Shaking my head in disbelief, I dug through my suitcase of loose accessories and dirty clothes and tossed him a black belt. In the process, my own eyes affirmed that my seventh grade jeans were indeed too big for my small roommate. The only thing stopping them from lying around his ankles was his firm grip at the denim fabric. I decided not to delve too deeply into that train of thought.

"Here ya go"

He quickly looped it through the belt loops and tightened it several notches.

"Thanks"

"Not a problem," I answered, picking up my cell phone as it vibrated. Gabbi had texted me.

_Meet you at the mall at 5_

_Xoxo,_

_Gabs_

It wasn't a request; it was a command.

"After we finally finish the errands," I told Ryan, motioning him to follow me down the stairs, "is it okay if I go off with Gabriella for a while? I'll drop you off at the house first, of course"

"Sure," Ryan said, focusing on maneuvering his new crutches down the stairs.

"Sorry that we have so many steps in this hoUUSE"

The last part sounded so funny because right as I said that, Ryan lost his balance for the second time that day and collided directly on top of me, causing me to smack down onto the stairs.

"Owww," I moaned, my back protesting in pain.

"Sorry," Ryan said in a rushed tone, his cheeks flushed. I remember being very aware that his limp hand was resting right against my waist. It might have weighed one hundred pounds for all the attention I gave it. Ryan's eyes followed mine, and he swiftly moved his arm. I slowly stood up, careful not to send us both sprawling. Making sure that Ryan was secure on his feet, a new idea struck me.

"Instead of using bulky crutches around the house, why don't you use my grandpa's old cane?"

"Would that be alright?" he asked timidly.

"My mom loves you; I don't think it will be a problem"

Sure enough; when at last our moms came back from job-searching, my mom was more than happy to let Ryan use old Grandpa's cane from deep in our abyss of a closet. And from then on, unless the two of us were sent on another stupid errands mission or went anywhere other than around the house, Ryan used the gnarled cane to hobble around. It was almost amusing, seeing a teenager using a cane to help walk, except for that fact that whenever Ryan _wasn't_ using the cane he made a painful face (despite the brace). And every time he made a face, it would cue major spazzing on my mother's part. As none of the boys in the household enjoyed the extra noise, Ryan stuck with his cane.

* * *

I groaned softly and banged my head against the wall. **No one** was available that night, and my parents were long gone. Running my hand through my hair, I wandered around the house, trying to find something to do. I came across Ryan flipping aimlessly through a golf catalog, looking as though he'd rather be watching paint dry.

Okay, so I did have one person to hang out with. But how to ask him?

"Hey…Ryan?" He glanced up at me. "Feel like playing some Xbox?"

"I've never played it before," he said warily.

"It's okay; I'll teach you. Come on"

He put down the magazine and followed me (slowly and using my grandpa's cane so we wouldn't have the same incident we did earlier) up the stairs and into the game room.

Against my expectations, Ryan wasn't all that bad. He picked up things very quickly, and didn't laugh or crack jokes while we played. We just…played. For some reason, I didn't mind that silence. Every other time of day, I was sure Ryan's silence would drive me to insanity. But not now that we were simply doing a brainless activity together, it made everything so easy. Every now and again one of us would smirk as they sent another player flying into a ditch, but that was the most we ever did. I wasn't complaining.

* * *

"Hey Troy?"

I put my cell phone against my shoulder, telling Gabs to hold on for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Could I borrow some of your clothes again? I have no idea where mine have gone"

My head spun around. Dripping shower water on the carpet and slightly flushed stood Ryan…clad only in a towel.

As you all know, I was well aware of Ryan's stature because of those long nightmares. But there are some things you can only notice about a guy when he's standing before you in a towel. #1- has almost no flesh on his bones at all. #2- has a very, scarily toned stomach. #3- also has very toned legs. #4- dang, that small towel covering what also looked to be a very…erm…firm—I MEAN TONED, of course—rear end, so to speak.

Alright, I'll admit; Ryan had very toned, legs, stomach, and ass, and I'll also admit it left me a bit out of breath. But we all get star-struck at times, right? Right. So it was not at all abnormal for me to take a few seconds to respond to Ryan's question.

"Yeah, sure. Try these on." I tossed him a pair of jeans I wore in the seventh grade. "You can go pick out a shirt from my closet; I don't care what." Okay, so what if I was buying more time to look at him? Who in their right mind wouldn't have?

"Thanks." To my astonishment, he flashed me a quick smile before opening my closet door with one hand. Had Ryan just seriously **smiled **at me? Even preoccupied with this wonder, I found my eyes stuck on the hand holding the towel hiding the only part of Ryan I hadn't seen—

"Troy?"

I swallowed hard. My breath seemed to have lodged itself in my chest.

"Sorry Gabriella, Ryan was just asking me something. What were you saying?"

"Oh…" was her simple reply. Was it because I had brought up Ryan? I remembered how she had _warned_ me about the Evans, and figured it would be best to keep quiet about how well Ryan and I were starting to get along. "Umm, I was just asking if you could meet me down at the mall in, like, fifteen minutes"

"I'll…" I stopped myself. I could see Ryan drying off his hair with a towel, now fully clothed in, well, **my** clothes. What had the two of us come up here to do in the first place? Oh yeah…play Xbox. I watched him for a few more seconds shaking the water out of his ears, his blond hair standing up on end. "I'm afraid I can't today; prior commitment. Stupid family stuff, you know?" I wasn't really lying again, because Ryan was almost like family now, wasn't he?

"Oh, I see…." Dang it, she sounded really disappointed. Well, we could always hang out the next day.

"Talk to you later. Bye"

"Bye." Right as I moved the phone away from my head to hang up, she added hurriedly, "I love you!"

I pulled the phone back up to my ear. "Love you too." Somehow, though we had said it to each other a million times, today it sounded awkward and out of place. "Bye"

"Bye." We both hung up.

"Gabriella?"

I hadn't realized Ryan was back in the room. I nodded to his question.

"She's been calling me more than usual, lately, and acting kind of strange. I don't know what her deal is"

Ryan merely nodded, his faces somber, and cocked his head towards the Xbox questioningly. I smiled, and sat down in front of it, turning it on with my big toe. He eased himself down next to me. I could smell his damp hair from my seat, and realized that he had used my own shampoo. A weird thought, but it made sense…and didn't seem to make me uncomfortable at all.

Maybe a game of Halo or something would take my mind off of Gabbi being so weird.

* * *

"Shit," I murmured to myself, digging through my family's medical supplies as quietly as I could. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" At last I came across a band-aid and wrapped it around my bleeding index finger.

I couldn't go to sleep until after Ryan's spasm was over and done with lately. Once Ryan was asleep, he was _out_, so I nowadays I would turn on the lamp after I was sure he was asleep and do my summer reading until he began to toss and turn. That night, I tried to find the lamp in the pitch darkness and instead landed myself with a paper cut from a stray piece of paper on my bedside table.

Swearing at my clumsiness, I crawled back into bed (the lamp now securely **on**), making sure not to disturb the sleeping Ryan. Needless to say, being a teenage guy, my hands felt painfully still just holding Grapes of Wrath. I began to fidget. At first my right hand scrunched the bed sheets, drummed the bed sheets, and made tiny castles before landing on something warm and soft. I looked down in surprise. Ryan's shirt had been pulled up over his shoulder, and my fingers had brushed against his bare upper arm. I couldn't help but smile as I heard through the quietness the soft wheezing of his slow breathing. Instead of pulling my hand away, I let my fingers float over to his skinny backside, drawing small circles in the small of his back. It gave my hands something to do, and might (hopefully) even postpone the inevitable nightmare for a while yet.

"Get'cha Head in the Game" blared noisily over in the corner. Swearing a blue streak for the second time that night to no one in particular, I carefully eased myself out of bed and glanced at the ID. It was Gabriella. What could she possibly want this late at night?

I glanced at Ryan, who was happily slumbering for the moment, and back to my ringing phone. _It_ would be staring soon and the phone might wake him up any minute. But wouldn't Gabbi be worried if I _didn't _pick up the phone?

Ryan turned over, rustling the sheets. A small whimper escaped him. Sighing, I turned my phone to silent and crawled back into bed. Gabriella could wait; I had a job to do.

_What think?? Isn't Troy slightly crushing on Ryan so adorable? God I love writing Tryans. Interesting how Troy is just starting to really be friends with Ryan, and already his having some physical attraction to him? But don't worry; they won't be boyfriends by the end of the next chapter, haha. Probably not until after two more chapters. I dunno. Troy will move past his shallow stage, I swear._

_**What do you think should happen? Should there be even more growing of friendship in the next chapter mixed with romance, or less romance and more friendship, or yes friendship but also tons of romance? 'Cause whether you like it or not, romance is coming up…you just get to decide when **____**Be sure to tell me in your decent-sized reviews. I might even be mean and choose not to update until I get at least twenty reviews from different people, haha. Time to review!**_

_Edit:: sorry about the line-break problem. I did originally have spaces in between sections on my upstairs computer, but I didn't happen down here. Sorry :( **  
**_


	5. Chapter 4

_Herumph. People really weren't lying when they said sophomore year is the hardest. I have had SO MUCH HOMEWORK!!!! I don't get to write as much :( it's very sad._

_About the cane:: I just went off the fact that when my friend had knee problems she used a cane to move around, and that Lucas sometimes moved around the HSM2 set with a cane :( sorry that I'm so inaccurate, aack_

_I thought this chapter was going to zoom by, but I got stuck on some stuff I had not intended. So here it is at last, and remember to __**R&R **__with nice, long reviews, as always._

**Chapter Four**

The incessant ringing of the home phone echoed throughout my house, causing me to wake up from my happy slumber. Groaning softly, I vaguely tried to move. I felt something against my back move. Oh yeah, I had forgotten about Ryan's snuggling. I turned on my other side so as to push him gently away (that way I wouldn't wake him up by answering the phone), but I found my face instead buried in his soft blonde hair. The one that reeked of _my_ shampoo. Unconsciously, I inhaled his comforting smell before pushing his warm body away and crawling out of my bedroom, into the hallway, and over to the upstairs phone. I sleepily put the receiver to my ear and mumbled a jumbled, "'lo?"

"Troy? It's Gabriella." She didn't sound happy. Crap.

"Hey babe; 'sup?"

A long, awkward pause. She could be such a _girl_ sometimes.

"If there's a problem with us, we shouldn't ignore it; we need to talk about it"

My eyes popped open painfully fast. "What are you talking about? There's a problem?"

"Well…you didn't pick up your phone last night; normally, you always do—"

"Gabbi, it was basically midnight!"

"We've stayed up talking until 2 a.m. before!" We had? Wow.

"I guess I wasn't thinking, then," I said passively, being unable to tell her the real reason why I hadn't been able to talk last night. Strike that—reason_s_. I couldn't blame Ryan for everything.

She sighed in relief, but I sensed she was still not 100 satisfied with my answer. I told her what she wanted to hear, so she gets suspicious. What a girl.

"Just don't scare me like that, 'k cutie?"

_Cutie? _How long had I had that repulsive nickname?! I held back a grimace, even though she couldn't see me anyways. "Whatever you say, Gabs"

Another stupid pause.

"You available to hang out tonight?"

"Sorry; Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are off-season basketball practice. No can do. I'll make it up to you"

"Promise?"

God, who was she; Sharpay?

"Promise"

"See you later!" she chirped happily, hanging up the phone.

* * *

"Well Troy, I think you've really learned all you can possibly learn from me. I can officially hand over Ryan's physical therapy to you" 

Great. Just great. Another thing about Ryan for me to be protective about. Woo-freaking-who.

The first one-on-one physical therapy session when (to no surprise) both of our moms were gone. The easiest place for Ryan to lie down was on the bed we shared, awkwardly enough. I rolled my sleeves up past my elbows and helped Ryan take his brace off. I slowly eased Ryan's bent leg up towards his chest. He hissed through his teeth.

"That still hurts?" He gave me a _duh_ look. "Need something to scream into?" I teased lightly. He snuck out his tongue, before letting out a low, guttural groan. Oddly enough, my pants suddenly became way too tight. Maybe it was something I ate.

"Holy—Mother—that—really—hurts!" he groaned an hour later, biting his lip. I got a sudden urge to grab him by the back of his head and bite that taffy pink lip for him. Dang, I_ really_ needed to stop watching TV. Especially Brokeback Mountain.

"Hold on, Ryan, you're almost done," I reassured him. "Just a little bit longer"

Without warning, Chad, of all people, burst into the room.

"What are you guys **doing?**" he asked, eyes bulging.

"I have to do Ryan's physical therapy," I said slowly.

"Oh…" Chad said apprehensively, looking embarrassed now. I felt my cheeks flush as I realized what he might have been thinking.

"You perv," I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Somehow, it worked, and Chad cheered up a little.

"What can I say? I'm corrupted"

"Ryan and I are almost done. You can go ahead and head over to the court; I'll be right there"

"See ya there." And he was gone.

"Sorry 'bout that," I apologized. "I wasn't planning on this taking so long, so I told Chad I could play ball with him at 3…and it's 3:20 now"

"It's alright," Ryan grunted, doing his last lunge and breathing heavily. "I can put my brace on; you go drive over"

I didn't move. It didn't sit right with me to let him finish the uncomfortable task by himself. Me and my lousy morals.

"Here." I helped Ryan sit back on our bed and grabbed his brace from the bedside table. As I squatted down in front of him, it took all of my mind power to concentrate only on slipping the brace securely on his tender knee. A million **crazy** and not so unpleasant thoughts swarmed to my head, but, as usual, I ignored them and shoved them to the back of my brain. I was seriously too perverted.

I tightened it as tight as I dared without completely hurting him.

"You good?"

"Yeah," he sighed, bending the join slightly. "Thanks." For the second time, I was rewarded with a quick flash of a smile before he pushed himself to his feet. I got the strongest urge to do something completely outrageous just to make him smile.

"If you're paddling upstream in a canoe and a wheel falls off, how many pancakes fit in a doghouse?" He didn't answer. Obviously. "None! Because Ice cream doesn't have bones!"

Ryan stared at me. I was pretty positive I had officially scared him, but then, startling me greatly, he burst out laughing.

"That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my entire life!" he gasped, clutching his side while he laughed.

I grinned sheepishly. "Well, you do pick up stuff from off-season basketball practice"

He shook his head and gave me such a broad smile it brought on tingles.

"Only basketball players could come up with something that stupid"

"So you think basketball players aren't smart?" I asked, walking slowly down the stairs with him.

"No," he said, his eyes sparkling. "I know they aren't"

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. "And how would you know that?"

"Because whenever I go to tutoring at least half the basketball team is there for _twice_ as long as I am"

What the hell was I supposed to say in response? _Prove it?_

"Well…I…umm…damn," I finally conceded, and laughing, rubbed the back of my head. "You got me"

"Saw that one coming," was his response.

I rolled my eyes and dug my car keys out of my pocket. "Sorry, but I _really _need to go meet up with Chad. I'm already running late"

"'K…bye," Ryan said shortly, lowering himself onto the couch. It was as if someone had flipped a switch; the smile was gone from his face. I paused in the garage doorway.

"Hey," I said gently, wandering over to the couch. Ryan looked up at me in surprise. "You want to come?"

"You crazy?" he laughed, and his eyes were back to twinkling. The smile had been there all the time; just hiding. "Play basketball with a bum knee? And besides…I don't know how to play"

"Aw, you'll love it! You get this huge adrenaline rush when you go pounding down the courts, and when you make a slam dunk it's like—"

"**Troy**," he interrupted, the ends of his mouth twitching, "I don't care! I'm a dramady, not an athlete"

"Did you seriously just say 'dramady'?" I snickered. "I thought only Gabbi said stuff like that." He rolled his eyes, and, out of the blue, I reached out and ruffled his hair. I don't know why I did; it was another one of my growingly frequent crazy urges. Besides, his blond hair was kind of soft. "See you later then, _dramady_"

"Bye, basketball nerd"

I laughed at the irony of it all as I started my car. Ryan Evans and Troy Bolton, complete opposites, making fun of each other and calling names like two-year-olds would. Why did that guy always make me never act my age? Around Gabriella, hell, you never saw me be more mature. I'm not saying that I wasn't immature with Chad and the guys, it's just that was a different kind of immature—like hormonal athletic teenager immature. With Ryan, it was more innocent, I guess you could say.

That was a good description for it; innocent fun.

* * *

"RYYYAAANNN!" 

Okay, so I was a little hyper coming back from basketball. Furthermore, I had a surprise for him.

"What?" Outwardly, he looked merely amused by my craziness and bored as he sounded, but in his eyes I recognized a glitter that translated that Ryan was game for anything.

"Guess what I stopped by on my way home?" I shook the two McDonald's bags in his face, bringing out the two large Cokes from behind my back. "You favorite restaurant!"

"You better have gotten me a vegetarian salad," he said placidly, while still smiling, and held out a waiting hand.

I grinned evilly. "That's the best part." I opened his bag. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Big Mac. Say hello!"

"Hi," Ryan said sarcastically, uneasily taking the hamburger. "You're kidding, right? I told you, I don't eat meat!"

"Just one bite," I pleaded, giving him my biggest puppy pout.

"Oh, aren't you too cute," he snorted while unwrapping the burger but still not eating it.

"Come on; you know that smells really good!"

"Not really," he chuckled, not taking his eyes off of the meat.

"Just one bite?" I begged hesitantly after a small pause.

"**One **bite," he surrendered. Taking a deep breath, he took a mouse-sized bite of the still-hot Big Mac. I held my breath; I honestly wanted to know what he thought about it. "You know," he said slowly and thoughtfully (again, I got the feeling I could see the gears whirring in his mind), "this isn't that bad"

"See, I'm not crazy!" I beamed, happily stuffing myself with my own cheeseburger.

"You keep on telling yourself that," Ryan smirked, taking a second and slightly larger bite.

I grinned at him thought a mouthful of lettuce. _Was_ I crazy? Was it crazy for driving at least fifteen miles out of my way just to be the one to get Ryan to try meat? Was I was crazy for leaving basketball practice with Chad half an hour early on a false excuse so Ryan wouldn't think I had gone out of my way? Was I crazy for once again ignoring Gabriella's increasing number of messages on my cell? Was I crazy for not even knowing why I went to such trouble over a stupid burger?

Yep. I'm pretty sure that qualified me as being crazy.

* * *

At the end of practice the next day, Chad announced that the gang was going to go to the bowling alley for the night. In the back of my mind, I remembered Ryan sitting all by himself back at my house...waiting for me to come back. I mean, his entire life didn't revolve around me hanging out with him or anything stupid like that, but surely even he would get lonely after two or three hours of solitude? I know I would have.

"Hey…can Ryan come too?"

Everyone stared at me. I guess they all thought I was still on the "it-is-hell-sharing-a-room-with-Ryan-because-he's-such-a-freak-and-my-mom's-forcing-me-to-hang-out-with-him" stage.

"You're serious?" Jason asked incredulously.

"Yeah…"

"So he's really, honestly come through after all? asked Chad. I guess Ryan pretending to be sick for the STOMP concert hadn't convinced him.

"Yeah. He's actually kind of fun, once you get to know him." In all truth, _really_ fun, but I wouldn't drop too many bombs on them at once.

"I guess," Zeke finally conceded. About time.

"I'll meet you guys there, 'k? I just need to swing by home to pick him up"

"Alright, man, if you're really sure about this," Chad said, hopefully hinting that I would laugh it all off.

"I am," I responded firmly, walking determinedly over to my car and taking out my keys.

It turned out to be a really fun evening. By the looks of it, Ryan had never gone _bowling _either. The kid was seriously deprived. I had to stand behind him and literally show him how to hold a bowling bowl, run up to the line, and skillfully role it down towards the pins. The entire time I could feel Gabriella's angered gaze boring into the back of my head; she felt neglected. I kept on telling myself I would go over and talk to her in a minute, but Ryan was so freaking high-maintenance! He would always smile whenever he got a strike or spare (which, after the first twenty or so minutes, was quite often), and that was not something to miss. And besides, with the slippery floor, he would constantly be slipping. Since the gang seemed to think it would be amusing to see Sharpay's twin fall flat on his face, it was me who was always running over to make sure he was okay.

It's not like I ignored Gabriella the entire evening. I wrapped my arm around her and chatted with her every possible second, when I wasn't playing or making sure Ryan didn't kill himself.

Basically, by the end of the evening, I had succeeded in giving Ryan a fun night out, getting Gabriella even more ticked off at me, confusing my guy friends, and gotten the lowest score I had even scored before in bowling. All in all, a success.

You've got to be thinking by now that Gabbi officially hated my guts. But that's not true. We just got in spats more often. I would make up and make out with her, she would feel loved again, we would go out on a date, and all would be well. And then the big group would do something, I would automatically bring Ryan along, and she would get mad at me again. Plus, I basically just ignored my cell phone at night. It was a slightly refreshing change, horrible as it sounds. We actually acted like a normal couple.

* * *

Each day, **everything**—just everything—became far easier to accept and cope with. When I practiced with my dad late in the afternoon (since he started coming home a bit earlier on some nights so that light was still remaining), he would potter about the kitchen and emerge moments later with iced lemonade and P.B. & J. sandwiches. By ways unknown to my father and me, he always seemed to know exactly what we were in the mood for. On the days when I was really not in the mood for peanut butter and jelly, he would turn up with turkey sandwiches instead. And on other days, when I wasn't in the mood for a sandwich, he would bring out chips and homemade caso. As despairing as my father's one-on-one practices would get, just to see Ryan hobbling toward us, beaming with a plateful of some refreshing goodies that would always hit the spot, put a smile on my own face. I couldn't help it. 

And that began to happen more and more often. Ryan's presence wasn't welcome only after a tough basketball game; I started getting a kick just turning a corner and see him walking slowly towards me, using a cane if his knee was giving him special trouble. But his face always lit with a smile whenever his eyes met mine—that never changed.

That was another odd thing; during the first month of his stay, Ryan rarely smiled. But then, as we began to spend unavoidable hours together, he seemed to cheer up. He didn't talk more, but he really didn't need to. The more time I spent with him, the better I could read his eyes. Ryan was one of those guys where you could really read his thoughts through any expression, twitch of a muscle…

The summer days slipped into a routine. I would be the first to wake up, carefully slip away from Ryan and go downstairs to make breakfast. He would arrive downstairs moments later and ask what was for breakfast. After the meal, on most days, I would go down to the local basketball court to shoot some hoops with Chad and the guys while Ryan would do whatever he wanted to back at the empty house. Then I would drive home and eat lunch with Ryan, and we would go watch whatever was on TV while one of us (we took turns) washed the dishes. After the unpleasant task of physical therapy, usually Gabriella would call to set up a place to meet, and, on occasion, Chad would call to inform me of where the gang was getting together to do…whatever we were doing. If Gabriella called, only I went. If Chad or some other male called, Ryan came with me. I, or we, would always be home in time to see my dad arrive home (unless I was taking Gabbi to rare dinner out). My dad and I would then play some one-on-one, with Ryan, as I explained earlier, bringing us some treat to tide us over until dinner. Following dinner Ryan and I would head up to our room to play on my Xbox 360 or maybe even pop in a movie, for there was already a TV in the game room. Around 11 or so we would concede to turn off the lights, wash up, and go to bed. And then, about 11:30 according to the clock on the wall, Ryan would have his nightmare, I would comfort him, and we would both go right back asleep.

With the easiness to hang out with Ryan came the easiness to take care of him, even if he didn't want to be taken care of or looked after. My mind never paused to wonder what to do when he cried out for Sharpay. I even started to act before he reached that point. My arms would wrap around his frail frame and I would bring my lips to his ear and sing the soft lullaby. But to my great distress, the nightmares didn't grow calmer over time; as a matter of fact, they became worse, and he became harder to comfort. I desperately wanted to know what troubled his sleep so terribly, what was haunting him in the late hours of the night, but to ask him would be to let him know that he was humbled and cared for every night for who knows how long without his knowledge. And I couldn't bring myself to do that…to ruin his pride so much. I would have to tell him at one point, that was undeniable, but I wanted to stall it. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I treasured those opportunities of helping Ryan get through whatever he was getting through…

But then something took place I had not anticipated. It about June 20th, and so far everything had been normal and customary.

_When I am down_

_And oh, my soul so weary_

_When troubles come_

_And my heart burdened be_

_Then I am still_

_And wait here in the silence_

_Until you come_

_And—_

But then, it happened. Ryan's open creaked open, and his eyes slowly focused around my face. My breath caught in my throat. _Oh shit._

"Troy…" he whispered softly. Suddenly, his entire attitude changed. His eyes lit up with a strange fire, and his fingers tightened around my arm and tears streamed faster than ever down his cheeks. "DON'T LET HIM DROWN ME! FOR GOD'S SAKE, TROY, PLEASE DON'T LET HIM KILL ME!"

**WHAT?**

_What think? Enough balance for you? Never fear; Troy and Gabriella __will__ break up, the physical therapy stuff will get __waaaaaaaay__ better than that (evil laugh), and the romance shall start spicing up. Not all too fast, of course. in the next chapter Troy will probably start getting a drift of his true feelings. Don't worry; they won't start making out in chapter 5, I promise. I'm not quite that crazy (yet)_

_Y'all are good guessers, though; I had already planned for Ryan to blur about dad/wake up in Troy's arms (though he's not __**really**__ awake, if you can't tell), intense physical therapy sessions (which I shall have a blast writing, teehee, it shall get hotter) and….yeah._

_So pretty much, I have like 5 pages of chapter 5 already written from earlier, so once I fix it all up and add another page, it should be ready for posting. Of course, I shall wait for you all to review on this chapter before posting. So if I don't get at least (counts up last reviews) 19 reviews, haha, no chapter 6. [[I am most likely exaggerating, since I love to post chapters, but we shall see. Yes, I am bribing. You give me reviews, I give you story. Tit for tat. __**So review!! What do you think? You like the way things are going? Think everything's way too obvious? Should I slow down a little? Should someone just shoot Gabriella in the face? (don't answer that, I'm only joking…sort of). Review!!!**_


	6. Chapter 5

_Thank you all __soooooooo__ much for all the reviews! I know I sound like such a noob and loser for making you all review so quickly, but….it was worth it, haha._

_So here I am, keeping up my end of the deal. Sorry I didn't post it even sooner, but I had a few touch-ups to make. To give y'all my best stuff (wow that sounds nerdy)._

_Without further ado, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to comfort him but keep him quiet at the same time….and trying to figure out what he was dreaming while he was awake. And why he wasn't yelling at me for holding him so close. "You're nowhere near water." Oh damn it; I had forgotten that I was always supposed to agree with him. Oh well, he caught me off guard.

"Troy," he pleaded, the desperateness in his voice making my skin crawl, "_help me_. Blood…everywhere…I…can't breathe!!" Hell, this was creepy. "**Don't let him kill me!**"

"Let **who** kill you?" I asked urgently. "No one's in here but me, and I won't let anyone touch you"

"_P-p-promise?_" he begged, his eyes searching my face. He still had a death grip on my arm, and his eyes were burning with such horror strongly regretted ever wishing to read his eyes during the nightmares.

"Promise." I vaguely remembered saying the same words to Gabriella earlier that day, but yet it seemed a whole different world. This was about as opposite as you could get.

I noticed the hand clutching my arm slowly become slack, and Ryan's head flopped peacefully against my chest as he slipped back into blissful sleep. If only I could just keep him like this forever; happily resting in my arms.

I realized I was shivering. Not with cold, I was plenty warm. This was just so…so…freaky, for lack of a better word. So damn freaky. What was I going to do??

The next morning was so awkward I thought I would explode. Ryan, of course, was happy in his innocence of the change of events, and contentedly ate his bran muffin. (In case you are wondering, my family made a point to buy a dozen of bran muffins especially for him every other week).

"So…" I said softly. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and not understanding. How could he have understood? "Last night you were muttering things in your sleep." He turned bright red. Could he remember what all had happened, including waking up like, in my arms? Maybe he just remembered the nightmare. It seemed to be pretty vivid to **him**, at any rate.

"Like what?" His voice gave away nothing, as usual.

"Something about drowning and a guy killing you…and not breathing." Not for the first time, I laughed nervously, trying to make it less weird. "It was kind of freaky, honestly. You have a nightmare or something?"

Ryan didn't say anything for a long while. He focused on his half-eaten bran muffin, and not a muscle in his body twitched. He looked like one of those wax works you see on a 5th grade field trip to the art museum downtown. I patiently waited.

* * *

It hadn't been a nightmare, really. It had been a memory. A memory so full of terror and misery that it delighted in torturing the teenager's brain it occupied. Ryan had lost count of how many times he had gone over the activities of that night several years previous. 

"_You little bastard!!!" the burly man thundered, throwing all of his weight into sinking a punch into the preteen's stomach. Ryan desperately tried to speak but instead vomited bile and blood all of his father's shoes._

_Mr. Evans grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged the boy out into the dark backyard; it was midnight and Ryan had __**just **__arrived home from dance practice._

"_Dad, what are you doing?" Sharpay asked in a shaky voice from the second story window (she had locked herself in her room, as always)._

"_Shut up, bitch," he snapped. "He's gonna get wus comin' to 'im"_

_In the Evan's three acre plot of land, on the paved patio was a white marble fountain. It was a pretty thing with many levels and trails of stone ivy carved all over it. The water had always sounded peaceful and serene plopping happily into the basin, and overall had a very calming effect. It was into this work of art that Ryan's face was slammed._

_And there it stayed. His father's hand firmly pressed upon the back of his neck, all means of breathing were cut off. As seconds turned into minutes, Ryan's thrashing became more desperate, and the water around his face became dyed a deep red._

"_**LET HIM GO!!!**__" Sharpay sobbed, pounding his fists against the window pane. "__**YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!**__"_

_Though any normal human being would jump to agree with the declaration that Mr. Evans was a psycho, abusive father who needed __serious__ counseling, however distorted the man's mind was, he was not inhuman. As Sharpay's panic-stricken words rang against the house walls, his grip on Ryan's throat lessened, and his hands dropped useless to his side. He walked quietly away._

_The moment she was certain her father was quite gone, Sharpay dashed out the backdoor and dragged her brother's convulsing body out of the fountain._

"_Ryan?" He only responded by throwing up more blood, covering Sharpay's designer shoes with blood and water. She held him close; glad he was alive, if only for that moment._

* * *

"I don't remember," he finally announced bluntly, and went back to munching on his breakfast.

* * *

Before I knew it, June had flown by with increasingly painful nightmares and physical therapy sessions for Ryan and endless inward battles for me, and it was the fourth of July; Independence Day. The women of the house had bedecked it with red, white, and blue, and hung a fading, dusty flag from our porch. Chad and others had invited to go see the fireworks on the lake with them, and I had at once agreed. Despite everything, I still felt guilty every time people would invite me to something and add as an afterthought, "And Ryan can come too, I suppose. There's no real way to leave him behind, is there?" And I would always respond firmly, "No, there isn't. See you there." Though it hadn't in the beginning, it was really starting to tick me off how Ryan was always a side note, a side thought…a side _person. _Sure, I had once thought like that…but the point was my mind was fixed now. 

When we climbed out of my sports car at the park next to the lake, I was shocked and horrified to see how **big **the crowd was. With a simple flick of the eyes in my direction, I could tell Ryan and noticed and registered my thoughts. He gave a reassuring nod of his head, and we walked together over to where Chad, Gabriella, Taylor and the bunch were chatting away slightly outside the mob.

"Splendid turnout, don't you think?" Taylor bubbled. "Now we'll really have some fun!" Depends on your definition of fun.

We milled around in the crowd for a while as the number of people kept on growing and growing and growing until it felt like the crowd before had grown at least three times in size. For every excited individual that joined the group, my heart pounded harder and faster and harder and faster until I could barely breathe. _Here we go all over again_ I thought to myself, and at once looked around for Ryan to save me. But Ryan wasn't there, for he had vanished into the gargantuan crowd. My panic doubled. Right when I needed someone who could understand the feeling (whether you were claustrophobic or hydrophobic) my last hope of survival had disappeared. Commence in full-on freak out mode.

"Need…air…" I panted queasily. Chad sent me a weird look.

"Say what?"

"I…need…air!" I gasped, almost seeing spots.

"Troy, what are you talking about, there's plenty of air in a park-"

"I can't breathe!" I yelled far louder than I had meant to, causing everyone in our small group looked my way. "ToomanypeopletooclosetogetherIwantair!" Great, now I was really hypervenalating.

"Calm down, baby; it's alright, I'm here." I didn't want Gabriella, dang it! I wanted Ryan!

"I just need Ryan!"

Oh God. Had I really, truly, honest-to-goodness just said that out loud? I had **not **meant to say that in front of everyone, **especially **not in front of my girlfriend? What was wrong with me???

Gabriella was also giving me a weird look now. "What do you want Ryan for? What's he done?"

"Ijustneedhimokay?" _What the hell, Troy, don't be rude to your girlfriend!_

Looking slightly offended, Gabriella sent off Taylor to find Ryan as the rest of them tried to calm me down. But the whole point was they were trying to comfort me while we were still in the dang crowd, and they were all pressing in around my face!

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I finally bellowed, running my hand through my hair. I was sorely tempted to rock back and forth like Ryan had by the pool what seemed like ages ago, but I would not lower myself to _that _extent…especially in front of Chad and Gabriella.

"What's going on?" I could recognize Ryan's soothing, soft voice anywhere.

"I dunno; he just starting panicking and freaking out for no good reason, and then started asking for you…" Chad sounded ticked from being confused as to why Ryan could help me while he and Gabriella couldn't.

"Help me lead him away from the crowd, and make sure to say out of his face." God bless Ryan. I had never before admired the way he avoided the question hidden in sentences and just gave simple orders. By merely not explaining things he had saved me a whole bunch of unwanted attention. I did not want to think at the moment about how everyone would have reacted to the fact that their captain had a _weakness_.

Ryan's advice turned to work out very nicely. With the cool evening breeze blowing in my face, with every one at least a yard away from me and not speaking, my senses returned to me. And, with that, the full height of my embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," I said quickly. "I just had a panic attack; I have no idea what came over me"

"Why did you ask for Ryan and turn _me_ away?" By her tone, Gabriella had been waiting for the right moment to ask me that question.

"Because I had a panic attack at my house a few weeks ago, and he saw what my mom did then. He would know what to do, you know?" No, they probably didn't, but it would still work as an excuse, even if it wasn't entirely truthful.

With order now restored, our group situated itself nearby a large cluster of brown looking brush which Chad told us was the very _best _place to watch fireworks.

But unlike my peers, my attention was not focused on the magnificent fireworks being set off from the boat on the lake. Why had I asked for Ryan and turned wonderful Gabbi away? Gabriella was just as if not more sweet, comforting, and understanding than Ryan. Sure, Ryan understood phobias better than her, but with a bit of explaining Gabs would not have a problem grasping the concept. So why had I asked for Ryan?

In my gut, I was pretty sure that I knew why. It was because I was growing emotionally closer to Ryan despite everything. Honestly, I barely knew him, his history, his family, and how he held up conversations (mostly because he **still **never talked if he could help it)…but I was still growing quite fond of him.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and my heart softened once again. His eyes were glued to the bedazzling fireworks, and the same evening breeze that had comforted me not ten minutes before was tugging on his short blonde hair, and the colors sparkling in the sky practically reflected off his pale skin. I turned my gaze to Gabbi. She caught my eye and smiled warmly, curling up against me. I lowered my face to smell her hair and she squeezed my hand. Though she didn't know it, I was analyzing her too. Her skin glowed gently in the darkness, and her dark curls blended in with the growing shadows. She was still beautiful…but yet, she no longer held the "awe" factor for me. Seeing the moonlight reflecting in her eyes no longer amazed and ensnared me, seeing what was down her shirt no longer made my heart stop beating, feelings her hand rubbing mine no longer gave me tingles. And weirdly enough, that fragrant smell of vanilla shampoo just didn't seem to interest me. But just _looking_ at Ryan sitting nearby me with pain and innocence glistening in his eyes was enough to give me all the feelings in one swoop.

There was no denying it anymore. I was no longer interested in Gabbi…and, in strange way, was interested in Ryan.

"Troy-"

"Not now, Gabs, let's just enjoy the fireworks"

"But Troy-"

"Not a word." No wonder guys went gay, girls were seriously annoying. _Wait; what was I saying?_

"TROY!"

The panic in her voice made my head snap over. "WHAT?"

"Look at your arm!"

I did so. Holy mother, where had all those bumps come from? Not only were they all over my arms, but they were all over my neck, my legs, my back…and other places that were not to be mentioned in public! And what made it worse was that I now realized how each and every lump was itching like mad!

"Dude, do you have allergies?" Chad asked worriedly.

"I didn't think I did," I stuttered nervously, scratching my arms and legs like my life depended on it.

"Don't scratch!" Gabbi immediately ordered. "That will only make the inflammation worse." But it **itched** so _badly_!

"You must be highly allergic to ragweed," Taylor concluded, pointing to the vegetation behind where we were located. "If it were something more common in Albuquerque, this would have happened before"

I groaned. "Why did we have to come across it during a fireworks show?? What should I do?"

"Go down to a local drug store, buy some soothing stuff, and then go home and rub it wherever it itches. And don't scratch," Gabriella firmly instructed. I sighed.

"Sorry to ruin the fun twice in one evening, guys"

Chad only smiled. "It's okay, man, it's not like you did it on purpose"

"Come on, Ryan, we have to leave"

Gabriella's head shot up.

"Why is Ryan leaving too?"

"Because we have to carpool everywhere together, considering we have to live together for awhile"

She blushed furiously. "Of course"

"Time to go, Ryan"

Ryan obviously didn't want to leave the great show so early, but he got up anyways and followed me back to my car.

"You heard Gabriella," he said with that smirk of his. "No scratching"

I muttered several curses under my breath. "Yeah, says _Gabs_. I don't see any itchy bumps all over her skin." Ryan snorted, but said no more. I wasn't bothered. I was one of the lucky few who were able to get so many words out of him, I was proud to note.

We made a pit stop at a gas station to pick up one of those itch-reliever-soother things. I also grabbed a packet of herb stuff you put in the water before you take a bath. Anything would help.

Upon arrival home, I discovered by a note stuck to the fridge that the parents were out at some party at their own and would be back before midnight hopefully.

"Great," I muttered. "How the heck am I going to apply this goop to myself without being Mr. Fantastic?"

"Stop being so dramatic; I'll do it." An Evans had just told me to stop being dramatic. What was the world coming to? But wait…I had not soaked in the second part of the sentence. _Ryan_ would rub in the lotion instead of my mom. That meant his hands on my legs, arms, and back…all of a sudden allergies didn't seem so bad.

Stripping to basketball shorts, I lay face down on my bed while Ryan squeezed lotion into his hands and rubbed them together. My eyes closed with pleasure as his cold hands massaged the lotion all over my itching back. The bothersome bumps were the very last thing on my mind. Not a big shocker there. Tingles irrupted over my skin as Ryan stroked my leg with the lotion. Just to feel his hand going most of the way up my leg was, well, leading to difficulties in other areas. Why the hell was I reacting to _Ryan _this way? It was so…unnatural. Guys shouldn't be thinking those kind of thoughts about other guys…should they? Thank God my back was to him, or this would become even more awkward.

"Turn over; I need to do your front." Was the kid a freaking mind reader? Cussing a storm in my mind, I sat up and tried not to show any emotion while Ryan concentrated on rubbing ointment all over my chest and shoulders. Holy Lord, the guy was a pro at massages! Feeling his fingers working out all the knots in my shoulders and dance across my chest…it was far more torture than his nightmares, because this time **he** was holding the cards. Was it just my imagination, or did his eyes flick down once or twice to the problem I was experiencing? I couldn't be sure whether I saw it because that was what my mind wanted to see, or if Ryan actually be fully aware of the circumstances? I barely knew which one to hope for.

All too soon, in my opinion, he had finished rubbing in the soother. "Now take your medication and go to bed"

"Yes _mom_," I teased him gently. "And why should I go to bed so early on Independence Day?"

"Because the meds make you sleepy and I don't feel like carrying you with my knee." His tone suddenly became gentler. "Goodnight, Troy"

If I had been a cat, I swear I would have purred. When his voice went down lower, it became so velvety and smooth I felt like I could have curled up and slept in it.

I obediently took my medication and climbed into bed, but I did not allow myself to go to sleep. I felt Ryan tuck my legs in under the sheets and pull the covers over me, thinking me to be already asleep, and slip into bed. Yet even with drugs dragging my eyelids closed, I refused to give in until I felt Ryan's breath against my neck and his chin digging into my back. Only when I felt my roommate cuddle against my back in his sleep did I allow myself the pleasure of sailing off to dream world. Because of the drugs, I would be able to get in a little sleep before nightmares. My arms lay near his cool hand, ready at a moment's notice; little minute-men of my own. Bring on the war.

* * *

_So now you all know why Ryan is afraid of water. Good reason, no? But I know, I know; you were all looking forward to Ryan's confession and hard-core physical therapy. Wait a little longer! Not yet, not __**yet. **__Don't worry, confessions and Tryan hotness will arrive soon; perhaps not fully in the next chapter…but maybe the one after that :) Don't give up on me yet!_

_As I have hardly anything written after this, the next update will probably be the normal, annoyingly long time :( I dislike it as much as you guys, but it's inevitable. Hey, with the three-day weekend, who knows; I might accomplish a bunch._

_**You know the routine by now. Review nice long reviews, tell me what you thought, what you think will/should happen, etc etc. Thank you all again! **__(over ONE HUNDRED review!!! –sobs- you have no idea how much that really made my month) _


	7. Chapter 6

_Random story:: so Lucas's version of "Let it Snow" came out October 16__th__, right? So I wake up at 5 in the morning like a food fan to buy it, right? It's not on iTunes. So I refresh the page about every twenty seconds until about 7:25, when I have to leave for school. When I come home at 4, it's still not on there. So after my musical rehearsal (ending at 8:30), I make my dad drive me down to Best Buy (the only place in town with the CD). Two minutes before closing time I sprint inside the store in character shoes (have you ever tried to run in those things? Ugh) and ask the lady at customer service for the CD—my mom asked her to have it ready there. So that girl has no idea where it is, asks another girl who __goes back inside the storehouse__ and gets it for me. Turns out, it wasn't going to be out on shelves until a week later; I'm just that special. But then, wait for it, wait for it; guess what's on iTunes the moment I get home? That's right; "Let it Snow". The world hates me. The long and short of it is that I now have my Lucas song and the world is a happy place again. It's beautiful and Disney-bubblegum-ish as you like. I just love his voice, and have the song on repeat as I write this._

_On TOPIC, here's the little short Chapter Six. Make sure to review and read the note at the end of the chapter; it explains some stuff. __**R&R!**_

**Chapter Six**

Would you believe it? Gabriella, Chad, and the rest were dragging me along to another one of Amy's ridiculous parties. You would think after my last disappearance from the event they would have caught the drift that I didn't like big crowds. Nothing of the sort; they were determined that I should be as big a partygoer as them. Bleah.

So I found myself, **once again**, miserable at Amy Chang's ridiculous house with Ryan missing-in-action. I managed to stay out of the dance pit this time…but sadly, not from horny girls.

"Hey Troy, can I talk to you for a minute?" The way Gabriella's eyes sent lustful meanings towards me was really quite gross, but I crossed my fingers that she would be decent as I followed her away from the group and into a spare room.

But my heart plummeted down to my toes when as soon as we rounded the corner Gabriella yanked me down to her height and kissed me full on. On a normal day, I would have kissed her back with just as much fervor and passion, but today I wished I could uproot from the place where I stood. Our first "make-out" session had been so full of discovery and…hormones. Yet now that Gabbi and I had been dating for several months, she had left nothing to be discovered. I glanced around the room. It wasn't exactly a coat closet; I saw a chair, TV, and then…a four-poster bed. Oh shit; a spare bedroom.

As much as I wanted to move from where I was, my feet wouldn't come to life. I let Gabriella's tongue explore my mouth and I let her lips smash lustfully against mine. My hands roamed down her back, drawing pictures with my fingers. I felt her shudder happily against my touch, but instead of turning me on—it disgusted me today. _What was wrong with me? _Oddly enough, the first thing that popped into my head was Ryan; Ryan pressing his lips against mine instead of Gabriella. Not for the first time, I wondered why in the world that had entered my brain, as I was still not 100 sure that Ryan even rolled like that. But I still wondered how he kissed, how his short hair would feel in my fingers compared to Gabbi's long curls. Would it be softer? It_looked_softer. Unlike the previous perverted and, I'll admit, R-rated thought I had had about Ryan, I did not ignore it. I replaced Gabbi in my arms with Ryan and dwelled over the happy idea as long as I could.

The dream ended much sooner than I had hoped. Gabriella seemed to want to remind me that she was, in fact, a girl. This involved shoving me on the bed, ripping off my pants, shirt, undershirt, and boxers, and straddling my waist while performing her own little strip dance she must have seen on a Brittany Spears music video or something. I looked away from her as best I could without her noticing. It's not like we hadn't done this before…I just usually enjoyed it a million times more. Now, the only damned thing I could think about was Ryan doing the exact same thing—that's what made the blood rush to my abdominal area and toes curl in pleasure, not Gabriella's pathetic attempt to be a whore.

It's not **her** I wanted on me; it was Ryan, God damn it, and I was ready to admit it! So why couldn't I move? Why did I let her roll underneath me and yank me down into her while I moaned and fought back the urge to whisper a boy's name instead of her own?

Suddenly, I could see Gabriella's sexual, curvy outline ten times better. Either I had come by night vision, or someone had turned on the light. I strained my neck and looked over my shoulder. My heart froze into a block of concrete and sunk down to my toes. Of all the people to stumble across our (technically one-way) carousing, it had to be Ryan Evans. He hadn't turned on the light; he had merely opened the door and the light from the hallway had seemed in.

Gabriella didn't even _try_ to cover up herself. She only rolled around and let her junk hang low. She smiled wickedly.

"Come to join the party?" she asked seductively. I stared at her. _What the hell?_

"I…I…" Ryan seemed to choke on his words. He looked like he was about to puke. I expect I did too.

Then I noticed something. Unlike most gents, he was not staring at the naked girl flopped on the bed; rather, his eyes were distracted by the ass-naked boy straddling her…me. It wasn't the tint of lust that scared me, though; it was the betrayed portrayed in those lost eyes of his. Hurt, betrayal, and confusion. _Why are you doing this? _His eyes asked me sadly. _You told me you didn't love her, remember?_

And so I had. It had been during one of our games on the Xbox at about 11 at night (we were hyped up on filched Cokes). During level who-knows-what, my cell phone rang. Out of habit now, I switched it off and kept right on playing.

Ryan glanced at my caller ID. "Gabriella?" I nodded. "She's going to get really mad at you again." I shrugged. Ryan paused the game and looked directly at me; his eyes cross-examining mine. "You don't love her…do you." It wasn't a question.

I blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"If you loved her, you wouldn't ignore her like you do." So Ryan had noticed it too. I kept quiet and stared at my controller, letting what he had stated sink in.

"No…I guess I don't…_anymore_," I agreed quietly. "Just nothing about her interests me anymore. It's just same-old same-old now"

"Then it never was love in the first place," Ryan said firmly, "because love is never supposed to get bored, or simply fade away." If those were life's standards, than Gabriella and I had certainly flunked that test.

'Then', was the next logical question, 'why in hell was I here at Amy Chang's house having sex with the freaking girl in a dark room?' Because I was a confused, hormonal teenage boy—that's why. And there was Ryan, his gorgeous blue eyes now swimming, wondering how I could be so shallow.

"Ryan," I choked out, and I realized that unshed tears were clogging my throat. "I—" But he didn't stick around to hear it. He simply closed the door, and by his shadow underneath it I saw him walk away.

"Shit," I swore and was a little surprised when it came out as a sob. _Calm down, Troy, just calm down, _I ordered myself. I could not let my weird emotions take over my reasoning in a time like this. I rammed into my girlfriend on my own steam, my face brushing against her chest…buying time as I tried to figure out why I was doing what I was doing and what I was going to do once we both got too tired to move.

"I knew it"

I bolted upright.

"_Huh?_"

"I knew you two were more than roommates." Gabriella shoved me away from her.

"What are you talking about?" I wasn't denying that I had feelings for the guy anymore, but as_ I_ currently hadn't figured out the extent of them, how would she know what our relationship was?

"I've been watching you and Ryan together…and for 'just roommates', you two are way too close." She clipped and slipped back on her bra and thong._Gross_was the first word that popped into my brain. _Thank god _that's_covered up again. _"I saw the way Ryan looked at you, ass-naked on top of your girlfriend, and the way you panicked. You weren't excited to feel up things that belong to a girl, and you only banged my brains out because you can't do that with the **boy** you really want." Her eyes glittered maliciously. "You now I'm right. Why do you think I brought you in here, of all places? We could have done this anywhere. I did it because Ihad to know whether I was right or not. Now I know I was right all along. So play with me all you want, but it's never going to satisfy you. I will always have a good time—hell, you're Troy Bolton, for Christ's sake—but you're not getting anywhere." She now had all her clothes on again.

"So you're breaking up with me," I summarized tonelessly. I wasn't stupid; I had heard everything and understood every last bit of the speech. I just wanted to make sure that we were _officially_over. Complete brainless guy statement.

For the second time that evening, Gabriella pushed me up against the wall; her tongue making circles around my mouth. I didn't kiss her back. My mouth hung as slack as a dead man hanging from the noose. Not a muscle in my mouth flexed in the slightest, and my eyes were open the entire time; simply looking at her.

"Yes," she said, looking me in the eyes right back as she drew away. "Yes, I do believe we're over, Troy Bolton." She walked briskly towards the door, knowing my eyes would never follow her like they once did. "And Troy?" I looked up. "Have fun with your Ryan, the reason you're **being**dumped. But, oh wait—he's not **your**Ryan, is he?" With that stinging reminder and reality check, Gabbi flipped her hair out of her face and closed the door behind her. With that sickening sense that always comes with déjà vu, I watched her shadow under the door stride away and out of sight.

I must have sat—still naked as the day I was born, shivering, lost, and completely alone in the dark—for over half an hour before finally getting back into clothes and joining back with the disgusting party only a hallway away.

I walked past all the grinding dancers and over to the first familiar face I saw. As it turned out, that happened to be the barman.

"What'll it be?" he asked, wiping the sweat off his brow. I realized it was pretty hot in there…and I was thirsty.

"What different kinds of beer do you have?"



Ryan walked aimlessly around the room, ignorant of almost everyone around him. His brain was so swamped with ideas and denials and utter confusion and total bewilderment that he was incapable of looking at anything in the literal world for what it was. After and anon another partier would bump into him (half the time, male of female, it wasn't an accident), but he seemed unaware that there were humans on the planet other than himself.

His meaningless wanderings came to a stop when he came across a disturbing sight in front of the bar. An attractive teenager with shaggy brunette hair was wobbling dangerously upon a barstool, his eyes strangely out of focus and his loud words slurred together.

A horrifying image tore into Ryan's already tortured mind, feeling like a sharp dart thrown into a dartboard already covered completely with holes. The image was of a grown man stumbling around the house with out-of-focus eyes and a paddle for a tongue. Soon the image of a disoriented man with a shot glass, blearily looking for someone, hopefully his son, to practice his short-range aim on followed. Many more came trooping behind the first two.

Ryan shook his head, forcing the memory down, deep down with the rest. No one had disturbed them so far, and if he got his way, no one ever would.

"Troy?" he asked him cautiously. His companion turned to him, and a sloppy grin took over his face.

"Raaaayn!" he bellowed. "Yer lookin' awful purty ternight"

"Come on; we're leaving." Anything to get a drunk _away_from people; he was a danger to himself and everyone around him. No need for second thoughts. Then again, _how_to get him away? The captain was in no condition to drive, obviously.

"Why?" Troy pouted. "I'm havin' fuwun"

"Yeah, I bet you are," Ryan whispered to the ground, taking Troy's arm and gently tugging him away from the counter. "Time to go home," he said loud enough for Troy to hear him above the raucous.

"I don wanna," Troy moped, rubbing his eyes and tripping along behind Ryan (who was dragging him by means of his wrist). Ryan pointedly ignored him and, using his other hand to clutch weakly at the old cane he had brought into public for not the first time, led him over to the car.

"Lemme drive!" Troy giggled, running ahead of Ryan and trying to open the car door. _My__**God**__ he's wasted, _Ryan thought to himself, shaking his head.

"No; you're drunk, Troy"

"Nam tot!" he insisted, his lips forming into a pout again.

"Give me the keys," Ryan insisted. Troy rolled his eyes like he would have fifteen years before-hand, but did as he was told.

The moment the cold metal clinked in Ryan's hands, it struck him what this was implying. Him…drive. That was a **big**no-no.

Yet again, an old scene came roaring to him. The darkness; the neon city lights; the glass everywhere; a kind-looking officer slowly prying his white hands off the steering wheel; lying down on the side of the road, staring deep into the starry summer sky; his father dead because of his own driving…there was no way Ryan could trust himself on the road again.

The former-drama king glanced over at Troy. He had flopped down in the passenger seat and was dazedly looking around himself, giggling at whatever obscure thoughts were popping into his noggin. There was no possible way he could take care of himself at that moment.

Ryan sighed, took a deep breath, opened the door, and shakily sat down…on the driver's side.

A half-hour later, Mrs. Bolton jerked awake. For an instant she wasn't sure why she had woken up, but then she heard a car door slam in their driveway.

"Troy and Ryan must be home from the party," she groggily thought to herself, glancing at the clock; 12:30 a.m. She briefly registered heavy footsteps on the stairs before drifting off into sleep again.

Thirty minutes, Mrs. Bolton sat up her in bed. For an instant she wasn't sure why she had woken up a **second**time, but then she heard it again; a soft moan from down the hall.

"Troy? Ryan?" she mumbled sleepily, her motherly instincts slipping her out of bed and forcing her down the hallway. "You guys okay?" No response. She gently pushed open the door and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. "Boys?"

A loud whimper sounded from the right half of the cot. She immediately kneeled (with much creaking) next to it. "Troy? Is that you, sweetie?" A timid, cool hand reached out and brushed away not curly auburn waves, but short blonde locks. "**Ryan?**" Her hand brushed against his cheek. It was wet. "Ryan, what's the matter?" He only whimpered louder. _Poor lamb,_ she thought to herself. _He must be having a nightmare._

_I know, I know; attack me with knives and pitchforks for making this chapter so short. But I really loved this as a cliffhanger and was trying to decided whether or not to add three pages of fluff so I could keep the amazing ending or just to say heck with the cliffhanger and add on the other pages I've already written. But…as it turns out, the awesome cliffhanger won and here you go. Sorry again that it's so short! But never fear; I already have four pages of the next chapter TYPED; and probably have like three more ready to go in my little writing notebook I carry with me around school. I wrote a TON in school, but never have the time to type it up and perfect it! So just give me some time to type up chapter 7 (which will be like 7 pages long, don't worry) and perfect it to my liking, and you'll have another chapter! __**The faster you review, the more time I will force myself to type**__. :) I'm such a begger, I know it's a sin. I just love getting reviews. I think I live off of long reviews. __**Thank you all so much for sticking with me! Beginning of real Tryan in the next chapter, just wait and see!**__ I've decided; chapter 8 will when the relationship gets hard-core, fun Tryan fluff and loveliness. Just two chapters away! Stick with it and don't give up on me yet! I swear, relationship unhappiness will not last for long; I can't stand stuff like that either.  
_


	8. Chapter 7

_Bleah, sorry this took so long in coming. What with Homecoming, crazy scheduling, and my laziness to edit the freaking chapter which I finished long ago….yeah, sorry about the delay :(_

_On a different note, I'm so happy! The little notebook I always write all my stuff down in? __**Complete**__. It's full from page one to end with __Fire and Water__ story stuff. And I figured it out; about 40 typed pages worth. I'm such a nerd :) I really do love writing too much._

_So anyways, here's the chapter. You know the drill by now; __**R&R!**_

**Chapter Seven**

'_Poor lamb', she thought to herself. 'He must be having a nightmare'_

Mrs. Bolton gently shook his arm. "Wake up, dear, everything's alright"

But Ryan wasn't waking up. He only moaned more pitifully and jerked away from her comforting hand. "Come on," she said a little louder, shaking his arm harder. No verbal response, but Ryan's body twitched convulsively, squirming away from her again.

"**Ryan**," she said in a very clear, slightly tense voice, "**wake up**." But he couldn't. He was trapped in the prison of his memories in the world of his mind. His moan turned into a sob. Mrs. Bolton shook him harder. He yelped.

"_Why won't you wake up?_" the poor women breathed, her eyes clouding over in frustrated confusion. His torso whipped to the left, flinging his arm inches from her face. "Ryan!" His eyes remained as tightly compacted together as ever.

"What's going on?" Coach Bolton yawned. His wife's absence and anxious voice had dragged him out of bed.

"Ryan's having a nightmare…and he won't wake up!" After the concerned mother said so, Ran sobbed loudly, as if to prove her point.

"What do you mean, 'he won't wake up'?" the muscular man demanded.

"Well, I-I've tired to wake him up several times a-and nothing's happened!" Mrs. Bolton stuttered nervously, on the verge of tears.

Mr. Bolton tried to wake their guest, but had just as much success as his wife had.

"Go over to Troy's room and wake up Ms. Winters. Then call the doctor and ask him what we should do. If Ryan needs to go in tonight, we need to be prepared." Mrs. Bolton unhappily obeyed and walked quickly out of the room. In a few minutes, she was back, Ryan's pale and shocked mother next to her. By then, Ryan's spasms had become less violent, but noisy tears were still streaming down his face.

"What did the doctor say?"

"He had a few ideas of what was wrong, but said Ryan should probably spend the night there anyways…and to not try to wake him up. We're supposed to let him be"

Mr. Bolton nodded and looked around him with a furrowed brow. "Now where's Troy?"

"Just leave a note for him on the fridge," Mrs. Bolton said fearfully. "We need to go!"

"Alright," the father agreed, carefully scooping Ryan into his arms. Like his son not a month or so before him, he marveled at how light the youth was. Not that Ryan looked heavy…just not _that_ light.

Coach Bolton tilted up his arms so as to carry the feather-light boy easier. But even this small movement caused a small whimper of discontent to issue from his guest. He sighed to himself. What was the world coming to when teenage boys sobbed during their nightmares at night and weighed less than 130 pounds?

As the lady of the house scribbled a hasty note to her son and stuck it on the fridge, the coach murmured to himself, "But where **is** Troy?"

Troy Alexander Bolton was passed out cold on the hard, chilly floor of his bathroom.

He had slept through the entire thing.



I woke up the next morning cold, hungry, nauseous, and with the biggest headache I had ever had. Not to mention I was on the tile of the guest bathroom completely dressed and my clothes smelled disgusting. What the hell?

Moaning and groaning, I tripped down the stairs and was somehow able to summon enough brain cells to pour myself some cereal.

As I closed the fridge, I noticed there was a yellow sticky note stuck on it. It took me about ten minutes to remember how to read, but at last I got the job done.

_Dear Troy,_

_Your father and I have taken Ryan to the doctor's; he was having difficulty waking up from a nightmare, and we just wanted to make sure everything's alright. No need to worry._

_Make yourself breakfast and try to be a Doctor Mitchell's by 2._

_Lots of love,_

_Mom_

It took me about another ten minutes to **comprehend** the note, but when I did, I blew a fuse. _Ryan? At the __doctor's__? NIGHTMARES?_ Oh crap. Why had I not quieted him down before he was so loud my mom could hear him? Come to think of it, I couldn't remember much of the previous night. We had gone to Amy's party, it was really loud, Gabriella pulled me into another room…oh. **Then** it all came flooding back to me. Ryan coming across us on the bed, my confusion, the breakup—and the bar. I felt the blood drain from my face as I remembered shot glass after shot after shot…and everything because blurry. How had I made it home?

I looked again at the note. Two o'clock. I glanced at the clock up above the stove. 1:50. Oops.

Swallowing down a few headache-relief pills, I drove down to the doctor's office as fast as state law would let me.

"In what room are Ryan Evans and Mr. and Mrs. Bolton checked into?" I asked the receptionist.

"214. Fourth door on the left down the hallway to the right." I quickly thanked her and followed her directions to the room. And there it was; room 214. I knocked gently on the door. An unfamiliar doctor opened it.

"Troy! I am so glad you were able to make it, come in!" I saw my mother smiling at me over the doctor's shoulders. Realizing whose son I was, the doctor—who I assumed to be Dr. Mitchell—stepped aside so that I might enter.

It was an odd sight that met my eyes. My parents were sitting uncomfortably in their chairs, sending concerned glances in Ryan's direction. Ms. Winters was standing in the corner with the same expression as my parents. The object of their concern was looking paler than normal in an old Rolling Stones shirt of mine with tight black jeans that matched the dark circles under his eyes. His hair was mussed and sticking up slightly on end; he evidently hadn't gotten much sleep. He was currently staring at his hands folded neatly in his lap, and didn't even acknowledge my entrance. My mother motioned that I should sit down next to her. I did so.

"Now; Mr. and Mrs. Bolton, how long have these…_nightmares_, we'll call them for now, been going on?"

"Last night was the first time I know of," Mrs. Bolton said, trying her best to help out. Ryan still didn't look up from his hands. "But then, Troy's been sharing a room with him, so he would know best." All eyes in the room, including Ryan's turned on me.

I had never felt so self-conscious before. If I told, Sharpay would decapitate me for betraying their secret, but I also might somehow help stop Ryan's "nightmares" with the help of the doctor. Death or continued unhappiness. Fun pick.

I turned to Ryan's eyes in confusion. There lay confusion as well, curiosity…and a guardedness that hadn't been there the day before. He had lost some trust in me—but why? I was overcome by how blue his eyes were against his china white skin and black clothing…and how amazing his ass looked in those pants. He really needed to wear those more often.

Back to Ryan's eyes; they were so clear, but clouded at the same time. It reminded me of the blue you see at the top of mountains on a rainy day in foreign places like Austria, but also like the light crystal blue you might see in a diamond held up in sunlight. But then he broke eye contact, and I snapped out of my daze.

If telling the doctor about all those endless nights might bring Ryan some comfort…well, let Sharpay begin sharpened her daggers (which she doubtlessly kept in her purse at all times).

"Well, Troy?"

I sighed. _Here goes nothing_. "Yes, he has…almost every night"

My parents and Ryan stared at me, their eyes bulging.

"You never told us about it," my mom said slowly. I looked anywhere but Ryan; I didn't want to see the surprise and betrayal in his eyes for the second time in two days.

"I thought it would gradually pass," I mumbled bashfully, feeling the blood rush to my face again.

"So what exactly happened during these nightmares?'

I told him everything except for the singing; that was just between me and Ryan (and I would tell Ryan about it later). By the end of my tale, Ryan looked petrified and redder than a tomato, and my parents just let their mouths hang agape.

"I see…" the doctor said quietly. "I think I know what's going on here. You were right, Troy; those weren't normal nightmares. It has many names; Sleep Terrors, Sleep Terror Disorder, Pavor Nocturnus, but it's more frequently known as 'night terrors'." Ms. Winters squeaked and slid into an empty chair. "Everything you described fits in with the symptoms. The mode of sleep, the stages of physical discomfort, and the unclear images instead of visions—it all fits. With night terrors, the sleeper doesn't have a vivid scene, but an overwhelming emotion, and usually not a happy one. In this case, I suppose it was fear. Often times the fear takes the form of a single object, which may or may not inspire the emotion in real life. So the dark man he mentioned may connect to something in Ryan's past, or it may be completely irrelevant." I glanced sideways at Ryan to see if he would give me any clues as to which one it was. His face read nothing, as usual; but in his eyes I saw pure horror. I became pretty sure the form of the man was not irrelevant at all. "But now, Mr. Bolton; you say he might have hurt his arm in his thrashings?" My dad nodded as Ryan turned purple. "Ryan, do you know when your last physical was?"

Ryan shook his head calmly, but his eyes grew from horrified to petrified. What was so bad about a physical? It wasn't my favorite thing to do, but it wasn't torture, either.

"If you three will sit outside for a few minutes, I will give Ryan his annual physical and bring you the results." He stepped outside with us for a moment, letting Ryan change in privacy. As he soon went back in, my parents and I were left together alone. _Here we go_.

"Why didn't you tell us?" my mom asked quietly, obviously distressed that her only son could possibly keep a secret from her. What a concept.

"I thought it was something that would go away eventually," I responded innocently. Like hell I would tell them the real reason.

Dead silence reigned for ten minutes before Dr. Mitchell poked his head out the door.

"I need to talk to just the adults for a little while, so Troy, if you will take Ryan back to his cot in the overnight wing; it's room 366"

I nodded numbly and Ryan and I walked in stony silence down to his room. He sat on his cot, and I sat in a chair. We looked at each other.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked softly. I would have preferred if he had shouted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sharpay said she hadn't told you because you were already miserable as it was, and she would kill me if I told anybody"

"So why'd you tell?"

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Because I got scared and worried, I guess. I thought..." this was awkward to say to another guy, "I thought maybe if I told the doctor, he might be able to make it stop. It's not exactly fun having to watch you whimper and moan every night. "If it hadn't been for what Sharpay told me, I would have panicked a **long** time ago"

"What did Sharpay tell?" Ryan questioned slowly. Here came another hard part.

"Well…there's this song...to help you go back to sleep or something like that, and it always seemed to work—"

"_You raise me up_?" Ryan asked so softly I almost didn't hear him. I blinked in surprise.

"Actually, yeah; that's the song"

"So you sang that to me every night—just so I would get over my nightmares?"

"Umm…yeah?" I said tentatively.

"Oh," was all he had to say. We sat in silence for a while longer.

"You remind me a lot of your dad, you know." I stared at Ryan for a few seconds after he spoke. "No really, you do. Just the way you carry yourself…it's weird"

"Any particular reason why you brought this up?"

"When I woke up this morning, in this room, just the way your dad was looking at me like I was a bomb about to explode…or something he completely didn't understand…I don't know. In his eyes he just looked like you"

I didn't know quite how to handle this, so we went back into silence for a long time before I thought up something to say.

"About the party last night." That sure got his attention. "I'm sorry about the whole Gabriella-thing. She just pulled me into a room and before I knew it…you saw what happened"

"You don't have to lie, you know," was all he said, sounding slightly offended.

"I'm not!" I insisted. "Gabriella was like on some sex-spree and I had to see if—" Crap, now I had talked too much.

Ryan's head lifted.

"If what?"

"—she if she was right in thinking there was anything happening with us," I said quietly.

"Us?" he asked curiously. Then Ryan's eyes widened as he read between the lines. "Oh, I bet she thinks I've turned you gay"

"So you are?" I blurted out before I knew what I was doing.

"So am I what?"

"Gay?"

He leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. For the second time in ten minutes, I let my eyes stare into his. I honestly could have done it forever, but Ryan blinked and leaned back against the wall.

"Yes," he said at last. "I am." He had a very strange look on his face, and I wondered what all he had seen in my eyes. "Are you?"

I'm a person who accepts change very well. If one day someone ran into my room and told me the sky was neon green, I'd probably shrug and make the best of it. When Gabriella went to audition, it threw me off for a few seconds, but I went with the flow. I was an easy-going guy…and looked at change straight in the face. This was no time to change. I had to embrace who I had become —or who I was; who knew which.

"I think so," I whispered to the floor tiles, as if afraid my parents were pressing their ears against the door.

"But Gabri–"

"–broke up with me because I wasn't interested in her or any other girl. Plus…she's a total whore"

"So Shar really was right about that," Ryan grinned, causing me to chuckle. "But Troy, do you remember _else_ you did that night?"

I gulped. "I…have the worst feeling I got drunk"

"You did." Wonderful. Just wonderful. "I had to drive you home"

I groaned and placed my head in my hands. "So that explains why I woke up on the bath–" I stopped myself and comprehended what he had just stated. "You**drove**? I thought you hated driving, and your knee!"

He blushed attractively—**yes, I said attractively**—and said uncomfortably, "You needed to get home one way or another, and every else was as wasted as you were"

It was almost like Ryan was trying to make it sound like he had just done it so I wouldn't hurt anyone…but I sensed something else working in his brain. He could have called my mom to come, pick us up, but he knew I would be in big, big, big trouble for drinking. I also had the feeling he wouldn't have done the same thing for Chad, or any other member of our _gang_.

"Thanks," I murmured. Ryan had been looking away from me the entire time, but when I whispered my small gratitude, he looked me directly in the eye. I let myself get lost in his eyes, but…for the first time, I sensed a content soul. One that didn't remember dead fathers, car wreaks, roommates forced in having sex with a person they didn't even like anymore, or old differences. A person that let its eyes be explored and do some exploring of their own. With a single glance, it seemed to me that he read ever I had ever contemplated. I was pretty positive he knew every lustful thought I had had over him, my frustration with Gabriella, my confusion of how to deal with my feelings…everything. And he accepted me.

For once, we really understood each other.

"Ryan?"

I had never been more angry with a doctor in my life. He just _had_to barge in and ruin the moment.

"Are you ready for your physical?"

Again, that look of terror clouded Ryan's eyes, but he shoved it down. I would need to ask him about that later, among other things.

"Would you like your parents to stay in the room while I examine you?"

"No please," he said bashfully, glancing over in my direction. I gave him an encouraging smile. "Just Troy"

The doctor blinked in small surprise, but only motioned for us to follow him. We waited outside the room with the adults as Ryan changed, and then came inside the room once he was presentable.

Ryan looked tinier than ever in the hospital gown. He looked like he felt like being sick all over the examination table but was restraining his personal feelings for the doctor's sake.

The physical went very normal until the doctor had Ryan bend over and pulled back the gown to check his back.

"What's this?" he asked slowly, running his hand down Ryan's spine. "Where did these come from?"

The blonde teen jerked away from his touch, his eyes looking like plates.

"Ryan, where did those scars come from?" _Scars? What scars?_

He clamped his mouth tight shut; the image of stubbornness. An Evans he most certainly was.

"Troy, come see this; maybe you can help me." He told Ryan to lie facedown, and pulled back his robe enough so that his back was exposed to the chilly air again. I sucked air in sharply through my teeth.

White and red lines made a web across his pastel skin, with black and blue bruises yet to heal completely covering his shoulders and lower back. Everything past his hips was still covered by the robe for decency reasons.

"I-I have no idea what this could possibly be from." How had I not seen those marks the day after his shower? How blind **was**I? It was my turn to look at my roommate with a slack jaw and buggy eyes, and his turn to not meet the look.

"Ryan? Won't you tell us how you got these marks and bruises?" He firmly shook his head.

I ran my fingers down the cuts and scrapes on Ryan's back. He shivered underneath my touch.

"No idea?"

My eyes didn't move. "None"

He sighed and shrugged. "Let's wait outside so Ryan may change back"

I slowly let my fingers glide off his cold back and followed Dr. Mitchell out into the hallway.

When we went back inside the room, I vaguely remember the doctor telling the parents about the variations of drugs they could order to help make Ryan's night terrors, for now I knew what to call them, stop. I spent the whole time boring my eyes into Ryan's, questioning what the marks were all about. He winced slightly at my piercing gaze as if I was pouring lemon juice on an open cut, but I didn't stop my cross-examination. I had to know.

The silence of the car ride home was dreadful. My dad flipped on the radio, but the cheerfulness of the DJ seemed to fall dead on the noisy silence of our van.

Rightly knowing that everyone was going to grill him for answers the moment they had the chance, Ryan scuttled out of the car as fast as he could and was up the stairs and shut the door to the game room behind him before you could say "showbiz". I sent the adults a clear looked that said _just leave him alone _and followed after him.

I didn't bother to knock. I let myself in and locked it behind me before sitting on my side of the bed. Ryan was laying stomach-down on his side, his golden head resting on his arms. Timidly, I reached out my hand and touched his back. He shivered.

"Ry," I asked softly, "how'd you get those cuts on your back?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said into his arms.

"I thought we were going to try to be completely honest with each other," I chided gently. "So what happened?"

"God damn it, Troy, **nothing happened!**" Ryan said harshly. I waited a few seconds, and then—

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I'm confused, that's the hell why!" Ryan shouted, sitting up straight and glaring me in the face. I saw tear stains down his cheeks. Ryan Evans swore? "God knows that I…I…" I became under the firm impression that he hadn't talked straight on to someone in so long he had forgotten how. He drew a deep, shuddery breath. "I've never told anyone about this before! Do you know what that's like? Can you even **picture** having something stored down in you so deep that you wish like hell you could tell somebody but you can't bring yourself to do it? Damn it, Troy; I haven't told Sharpay, and she's my TWIN!"

He turned sharply so his back was to me and put his head in his hands. I heard him draw more deep and shuddery breaths as he tried for the millionth time to shove away his emotions.

We sat like this for I don't know how long; me staring wonderingly at Ryan as he sat with his back to me and head in hands. And then, I slowly scooted over towards him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind. Not anything more—just enough to let him know I was there and cared about him.

Ryan finally let his head rest against mine as his eyes closed and his lip began to wobble dangerously.

"It's okay," I whispered as quietly as I could in his ear. "It's just me, stupid Troy. Get it out of your system." Lord knew I had never spoken to Gabriella that way; but even if the need had arisen, I doubt I would have said anything. She used to sob so loudly on my shoulder, not allowing me to be anything but a live pillow. That's the way she had wanted it; she hadn't needed anything else.

At last, for the first time in his life, Ryan let go. Giving a final, surrendering sigh, tears leaked out of his eyes and he leaned back into my arms. I held him tighter and pressed my cheek against his.

It was enough.

_Teehee, more fluff to come in the next chapter!! …Now that I think about it, TONS of fluff. I'm need to edit it a ton and finish typing it all up (I have like, at least 6 pages I need to type up. I'm waaaay too lazy). Anyways, __**tell me what you think! Like the way things are going? Too fast, not fast enough? Ready for a make-out session about now? **__(heehee, not to far away….) __**Tell me everything and anything (related to the story, preferably) going through your head in a nice, long review. Basically, REVIEW!**_


	9. Chapter 8

So I still have two more chapters on my laptop...with lots of editing to be done :) I'm so horribly lazy. Anyhoot, here's ch 8, and I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. And Happy Late Birthday to Lucas; he had his golden birthday on the 23rd (he turned 23 on the 23rd golden b-day).

Enjoy the chapter! **  
**

* * *

** Chapter Eight**

If you think for a second that just because Ryan cried on my shoulder that he also spilled out all his wonderful secrets, let me be the first to correct you. I hinted many, many times after that day that he should tell me what the scars were about, but he always ignored them and acted as if I hadn't done anything at all. It was, to say the least, _very_ frustrating.

I persisted in bugging him about it almost 24/7, but there were many times when he caused me to relent in my attack. And about half of the time he didn't know he was saving himself from more nagging.

"Hey Ry," I said, walking over to the lawn chair where he had been lounging while watching my dad and I play one-on-one, "I was just thinking…" I trailed off into silence. The warmth of the sunshine had made him fall asleep, The Grapes of Wrath (he did, after all, have the same summer reading list as me) resting across his chest. One hand lay next to his mouth and the other behind his head and he lay sprawled on his back.

"You goof," I muttered to myself, going back to my dad and leaving him to his peace. I couldn't mess with the guy when he was sleeping.

* * *

"Hey Ry?" 

"Hmmm?"

"You remember at the doctor's office?"

"Mmm"

"Those markings? Were they from some bullies at East High?"

No response.

* * *

"Hey Ry?" 

"Hmmm?"

"I was thinking, about the marks…did you like scrape your back against a barb wire fence, perhaps?"

No response.

* * *

"Hey Ryan?" 

"Hmmm?"

"Where…" I sighed in defeat. "I mean, do you need any ointment for your back"

"Mm-mm"

"Okay…"

As the days drew on and he did not give an inch, I finally gave up and stopped assuming the best of the scars. He was making it painfully obvious it was none of my business.

* * *

We were walking back from a party at Chad's when it happened. Ryan had come with me, as always, only this time we had walked there and now it was time to go home. Having nothing better to do, the gang came along with us. With the exception of Gabbi, of course; out of politeness, Chad had invited her too, but she had rejected. No need to say why—everybody had known ten minutes after it happened about our falling-out. 

So all of us were chit-chatting while walking across a two-lane road, when I, being _oh so smart_, though I saw something and stopped in the middle of the road. I could have sworn I saw a head of brown curls all tangled up with a boy with dark brown hair…

"**Troy, car!**" I whipped my head around just in time to see a car screeching to a stop with its lights almost blinding me. _I'm going to get into a coma or something stupid like that, aren't I? _I thought unconsciously as I closed my eyes tight. But the pain didn't come from my front, as I expected, but rather from my left arm and my back.

When I dared to open my eyes, I felt something warm blow against my neck and saw a blonde mass panting against my chest.

"Ryan?" I managed to get out before he collapsed against me, a mess of tears and moans of pain.

"Are you alright?" a man's voice said, pulling over to the side of the road to make sure we were okay. "Don't just stop like that!

"What's wrong with him?" Chad asked nervously, motioning towards Ryan.

"He's not supposed to run at all, **that's**what's wrong with him!" I bellowed harshly, trying to set Ryan comfortably on the ground. "I don't even know _how_he could run with that brace on." Inwardly, I apologized to Chad; but, as usually happened when I was around Ryan, nothing in that nature came out. "Chad, feel like being a pal and calling my mom to come pick us up? I left my phone at home, and Ryan lost his in the fire"

"Uh, sure," Chad said quickly, pulling out his cell phone and walking a little distance away.

"We'll be okay," I told the concerned adult. "Thanks for asking. His knee's just giving him problems"

While the hubbub to contact someone was happening, Ryan pulled me down to his level, and whispered into my ear with a shaky voice.

"_Don't…scare…me like that…again_"

"Don't**you** ever do **that** again," I corrected him. "You could have done even more harm to yourself than just messing up your knee more"

He shook his head, and I realized the pain in his knee was only half the reason for the tears.

"I wasn't going to get hurt, Ry," I said, shrugging off his anxiety for me as manly as I could. "You didn't have to do that"

He only shook his head again, his eyes glazing over as he pointed toward the car that had almost hit me driving away. A new thought hit me.

"You've lost someone in a car crash before, right?" This time Ryan just shivered, and then bit his lip as his throbbing knee shook from the tremor. I gently moved his knee into a more comfortable position. "Just try not to move it anymore, 'k?" He nodded, voting for actions instead of words.

I was standing up to go see how the getting-a-ride process was going on when a firm hand grabbed onto my wrist. In slight shock, I followed the arm back to its owner, Ryan. He motioned for me to sit down. I did so.

"I have something to tell you," he whispered croakily, making eye contact with me. The meaning couldn't have been plainer, but I had to make sure.

"You mean…" I ran my fingers down his back. Ryan shuddered, causing another wince, but nodded again. I gulped.

"Tell me when we get home," I whispered even softer as Chad approached, and I squeezed his arm encouragingly. He managed a small smile.

"Your mom's on her way," Chad replied flatly, still looking perturbed by Ryan's unhappy condition.

"Thanks, man," I grinned up at him. He just gave me a weird look and didn't say anything. What was _his_ problem?

My musings left my mind the moment my mom pulled up next to us.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly. As was usual now, I ignored her and helped Ryan hop on his good leg over to the car while I held my Grandpa's old crutch.

"Sorry for bombing the party, what, three times now?" I apologized while chuckling weakly. Only Zeke smiled back.

"It's okay," Taylor said as nicely as she could, but still looking a little confused. "Anytime"

Feeling very self-conscious, I closed the car door behind me and turned my mind to more important matters. Namely, getting Ryan home so he could tell me what was wrong with his back!

Even though I knew my mom was dying to know what happened, I kept my silence. She thankfully kept hers as well.

At last we reached our house, after a ride the awkwardness of which matched only that of the one back from the doctor's office. Ryan managed to creak up the stairs on his own and I followed right behind him. I looked at him expectantly as we sat down on the bed.

He told me. He told me everything, starting right from the moment his parents divorced through his father's first drink and the reason he was afraid of water to the car crash almost a month before then.

When he finally finished, it was like he had just woken up from a bad dream. Like the sickness was gone, the cloud was lifted, the poison out—whatever comparison you want to use, Ryan had not looked more peaceful in months.

"No wonder you had nightmares," I said faintly. "It's enough to make anyone moan in their sleep"

He turned a deep crimson. "What all did go on at night?"

"You would toss, turn, moan, groan, whimper, and every now and again mutter a few random words and then eventually quiet down"

Ryan was beet red now. "Oh…" He didn't know quite what to make of it. "So my mom's gonna buy some drugs for me to take to make it go away"

"Yah, I guess so." An awkward pause. "I'll just do what I always do," I mumbled sheepishly. "I'll make sure my mom doesn't interfere again; I won't be out cold on the bathroom floor this time." I chuckled dimly, and was relieved when Ryan smirked at the small joke. Even though it wasn't funny at all, we needed something to ease our nerves.

Before long, it was eleven o'clock. Like most other nights, Ryan and I were playing X-box. We were so wrapped up in the game my mm had to knock several times on our door to tell us lights-out. At last, when Ryan kept on being murdered in the game because of his nodding head, I saved the scores and turned off the TV.

He yawned and shook his head. I couldn't help but notice how cute he was. He stretched, his already-tight black shirt tightening against his flawless skin. Arg, I really needed to stop focusing on that stuff.

"You need to go to bed," I told him softly.

He smiled sleepily.

"So do you"

I rolled my eyes.

"You first"

He submitted and grabbed his pajama pants and a cut-off shirt of mine from at least 4th grade. As he walked by I smacked at his upper leg with my shirt. Don't ask me why; I still don't know.

He whirled around and gave me a funny look. I returned it with a blank innocent blink that he used to give me around the clock. His face twisting into a childish grin, Ryan flipped his shirt into a rat tail and lashed it back against my legs.

For the next ten minutes, we stumbled (literally for Ry) around the game room like idiots, swatting at each other's legs with shirts until at last Ryan collapsed to our bed, trying to catch his breath from laughing.

Unfortunately —or maybe _fortunately_ for me— I lost my balance tripping over a stray Xbox game and tumbled directly onto Ryan. We were still laughing, and I began to push myself up so as not to hurt him, when we both suddenly froze and grew very quiet. He had been brushing blonde hair out of his eyes, and my arms were locked in place on either side of his shoulders. One hand still on the side of his forehead, Ryan gazed up into my eyes, and I gazed right back. Before I knew what in hell I was doing, I started leaning down, so far as to where our noses were brushing. My skin tingled when it touched his.

But thankfully, before anything else could happen, Ryan rolled away, a pale pink tingeing his cheeks. He seemed a bit confused and disoriented as he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. I smiled, and shrugged as a sign that he did need to go wash up. As he walked by me again, I resisted the urge to swat at his rear end without a shirt. I managed to sum up enough self control to keep my hands to myself.

I changed, washed my face, and was brushing my teeth when Ryan came out of the shower with only pajama pants on. I dribbled toothpaste all down my front. He bit his lip to hide his smile.

"Put on a shirt," I instructed in mock firmness.

"You never wear one," he pointed out, pulling the shirt on over his head anyways. I smirked, and blushed brightly when he grabbed a wash cloth and washed the toothpaste off my chest. I crossed my fingers he wouldn't notice the goose bumps. But the moment he turned his back to me to walk out of the room, it vanished. For then I got a full view of his back. Still purple with bruises and white stripes as scars. I shivered, and felt a fire start behind my eyes, making them very hot.

He heard me inhale sharply, and looked over his shoulder. I saw him take in his back in the mirror, his blue eyes turning dull as they examined the physical memories of miserable days past. I hastily sniffed, willing my eyes not to water from that fire.

"Ry?" I whispered softly, almost afraid to make a noise.

He didn't say a word, but slipped out of the bathroom. I followed him back into our room, ignoring the fact that he kept his back to me.

"Ry?" I repeated.

"I just don't want to see him again," Ryan whispered suddenly, almost choking on the tension in his voice. He was at the end of his rope.

Unconsciously, I reached out and traced a red path down his back with my forefinger. He shivered.

"I know," I murmured. "I know"

He turned around slowly and looked me full in the face. He didn't say anything. I don't think he needed to say anything. We were really beginning to understand each other, Ryan Evans and I.

As we were both washed up and changed we climbed into bed at the same time, and I grabbed my copy of Grapes of Wrath and a pad of paper. Ryan stared at the heavy book.

"Do you read 'til…" he faded into silence.

"Yeah"

He was quiet for a moment. "Long wait?"

"Not really," I answered honestly. "Maybe about half an hour after you fall asleep." He nodded.

We remained in silence for five minutes or so; me reading and scribbling notes in the margin and on sticky notes, and Ryan just sitting up against the headboard.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Ryan mumbled bashfully, blushing as he looked at his hands. He looked cute when he was awkward and embarrassed too.

"I'll be here," I said, offering him a half-smile, "if that's any comfort"

He grinned into my eyes, and I swear my heart turned into butter. He really needed to stop having that effect of me; it was hard to think looking into that face of his.

"It is"

After several minutes of no more questions, I glanced over at my roommate. Despite his best attempts to stay awake, Ryan's breathing was now regulated and slow, his delicate eyes closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. Rising and falling.

Sighing, I put down my book, turned off the light, and lay down next to Ryan. His still damp hair was flopped attractively over his gentle face. A few minutes ago it was filled with worries that he should never have had to carry, but now that sleep was there, he was all peaceful.

I raised a tentative hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes, and then, after hesitating a little, ran my fingers through his golden hair. I had been right in my guess; it was ten times softer than Gabriella's. I grinned to the darkness. Reluctantly, I allowed my eyes to close for a few seconds. Sure I would wake up when he had his nightmare…

And so I did. Allowing myself to go to sleep, I had put my hope into the faint dream that I would have no need to wake up—that Ryan would sleep serenely during the night and not be bothered by such unpleasant thoughts now that he had shared his tortured secret.

But sadly, I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by a loud whimper around the area of my chest. I reached over and held him tight, muttering comforting words in his ear. I felt like Ryan couldn't hear me. The moans kept on coming, and he writhed in my slack arms. Even when I quietly sang to him, the tears didn't stop until at least ten minutes afterwards. I wished he hadn't fallen at all.

When Ryan at last subsided back into happier dreams, I rubbed my raw eyes. My arms still wrapped around the resting Evans, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, when the warm sunshine hit my face, I was surprised to find something else warm and soft in my arms. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I looked down and saw that Ryan was still comfortably asleep in my arms. One pale arm was thrown over mine, and some baby cheek chub was squished against Ryan's face, as it was still pressed against my lower chest. 

In my tiredness, I absently ran my fingers through his silky hair. To me, it was almost like a form of yoga, or something; soothing. I at last controlled my weird perks and drew back my hand, letting it rest on his shoulder.

"Mmmm," Ryan mumbled into my skin, his eyes still closed. "Don't stop"

"I didn't know you were awake," I stuttered, pulling back my hand quickly. "Sorry"

"Dun be." Ryan moved his head so his chin was resting on my ribcage. "Felt nice." He looked around him as if seeing our awkward position for the first time. "I'm guessing I had a nightmare?" I nodded. He shrugged, and to my great surprise actually snuggled his face back against me.

I almost shook my head and rubbed my eyes. It **had** to be a dream. Only in dreams did Ryan curl up against me that way. Then I checked myself. _No,_I decided, _it was not a dream. If it was a dream, Ryan would be snuggling against me __with no clothes on_. The teenager most certainly had clothes on, so I could only assume that what was happening was the shocking reality.

"Um…Ryan?"

"Hmm?" he said; his face still on my chest. I got tingles at the feeling from his lips vibrated against my skin.

"Are you even awake?"

"Mhmm." He rolled off of me and I rolled my eyes when I saw he was complete out of it. That explained it. If he were conscious of himself, he would not have curled up against me in the way he did. At least, I thought he wouldn't have. A person could always cross their fingers that he would've.

* * *

"Troy!" 

The warning was a second too late. The basketball hit me full in the face and I was on my back on the court floor.

The game momentarily stopped and the guys made sure I was okay.

"Man, what's wrong with you today?" Chad asked, concern filling his eyes. "You just can't stay focused. You had Gabriella as an excuse before, but y'all broke up." His eyes widened. "Is _that_why…man, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you knew about Kyle"

I looked bewilderedly up at him.

"Who's Kyle?"

"Kyle's her new boyfriend," Jason said in surprise, oblivious to all the signs the team was giving him to shut up. "You saw them kissing the other day when you almost got hit by a car…"

"Oh." So that's what that had been. "Right"

The rest of the team, seeing that I was okay, started the game back up, but Chad wasn't convinced. After practice was over, he pulled me aside. We hadn't had a man-to-man talk in a while, so we sat down opposite each other by a tree and just talked.

"So_was_ it Gabs you were thinking about earlier?" he asked suspiciously. I half-smiled and shook my head.

"Naw, it was Ryan, actually." His head jerked up. "Not in the same way that I was distracted by Gabriella, of course…it's just that the guy is such a puzzle. I mean, before he stayed with us, I never noticed how blue the guy's eyes are, you know what I mean?" Chad shook his head, baffled, as if for all the world he hadn't even known Ryan _had_ eyes. "Ryan really isn't that bad of a guy. I know how much we're always talking about how we can't stand silence," Chad nodded here, "but it is different now. When he's quiet, it's not like a bad kind of silence. It's just contented. Just hanging around the guy makes me want to get to know him better, ya know?"

Chad gave me a look that plainly said he thought I was off my rocker. Which, looking back at my words, was most likely true.

"Man, I don't know what you're saying…I never noticed anything special about that kid"

"But he's so different! Just the way he looks on things, and reacts, and his opinions…everything is so…different"

"Well, if he's so different, how come at school he's just _blends in _with the crowd?" Chad laughed, obviously not taking me seriously. He probably thought I was just trying to pull his leg. But, for once, I wasn't. I was trying to be serious, and it wasn't working terribly well.

Several times before, when I had tried to explain the way I felt around Ryan, Chad had laughed it off, and I had gone along with it and smiled the thing away. However, this time I wasn't going to let it go. I needed to be honest.

"He lets himself blend. You have to get to know him to see what a great guy he is. Ryan's…Ryan's…" I tired to find the right word. "He's just Ryan. I can't explain it"

"I'll take your word for it," Chad said with a guarded face, and made his way towards his truck. I sighed, and shook my head. He could never understand. Did anyone really understand? I don't think I even understood the way I honestly felt about the guy.

* * *

There was one, miserable, rainy day when Ryan's knee was giving him especial pain to the point where he couldn't walk. Our parents were gone, obviously, so we decided to take our boring movie-watching downstairs to the plasma. The only problem was, Ryan couldn't even move. 

"Here, just wrap your arm around my neck and I'll support you for your other leg"

He shook his head, holding the ice pack firmly on his knee. We weren't sure what good that was going to do it, but I had read somewhere it relaxed the muscles, so we applied it anyways.

"Come on, we have nothing better to do and this TV has no cable. Come on"

Another head shake.

"You know what? Fine. Fine! I'll just have to carry you down"

"Troy!" Ryan protested, but I ignored him, grinning.

"Wrap your arms around my neck"

"Troy, I really—" he objected, still doing as he told.

"I'm giving you a piggyback, whatever you say, on the count of three"

"Troy, you can't—"

"One…"

"This isn't—"

"Two…"

"If anyone—"

"Three!" I stood up, and Ryan hitched a leg around my waist in an attempt not to fall as he leaned his full weight dependently against me. I grabbed his arms and pulled them down to my collar so he wouldn't choke me. "There, now is that so bad?"

He mumbled something incoherent, which I took to be a good thing, and smiled to myself. I bite down on the edge of the ice pack to carry it as well even with hands full.

As so we made our way down the stairs where I eased him into a recliner, handing him his ice pack.

About ten minutes later in "Smallville", he opened and closed him mouth, contemplating something. I looked expectantly at him. At last, he murmured a small '_thanks'_ before returning his focus to the show.

"You're welcome," I returned softly before following his lead and watching Lex Luthor hatch another brilliant plan.

So what if I was flirting with him? We were both gay, weren't we? I had determined it the other day. So there was no harm to be done. I just felt so good, despite the horrible weather. Who needed good weather when you had a marvel like Ryan in the house?

But something new had begun. For even though Ryan kept a calm composure through the ordeal and managed to look very dignified, I had caught a glimpse of something I hadn't seen yet before. A shine of happiness in his eye, the shadow of a smile very belatedly suppressed, and a satisfactory almost inaudible giggle when I pretended to almost sit on him after handing over the ice, standing up at the last second. The push to save himself had been very weak, even playful if such a word was dared to be used. And earlier on, when he had not stopped me from carrying him down the stairs; intrusting his own safety to my hands. Even if his words had spoken otherwise, no one can doubt body language.

Inch by inch, step by step, I was slowly wearing Ryan Evan's wall down.

* * *

Review! What did you think? Relationship growth right speed? It's gonna start heating up soon...pretty darn soon... 


	10. Chapter 9

_It's so funny: I think I first started writing this story in the summer, and that's why it takes place in the summer. But now it's deep into December and I'm ready for the story to move into December…but I can't! Because it all takes place during summer! It's the most aggravating thing in the entire world, you don't even know, urg. I have to be good and remind myself everything I have in store for the story and not just burst ahead to winter : That, I think, I shall save for the sequel. And don't you worry; there WILL be a sequel. I already have it in the plans. And I won't post the last chapter of the story until you all agree to go read the sequel, haha. But the chapter after this (or the one after it or the one after THAT) isn't the last chapter, so your dedication to read it isn't demanded yet._

_So onto this chapter. Sorry it took so long in posting, but I've had a zillion papers to write for school and no time to write during class as I usually do…urg. It took me forever to figure out exactly how to make it perfect, and I at last decided to make the chapter a mini-song fic. I'm just in love with the song "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat, and I was going to sleep to it late one night and I was like "Heeeeeeeeeeeey, this would make a cute Tryan songfic. It almost fits in with my story, too…" So I decided to make it the chapter where they _finally_hook up. I warn you, though, the lyrics __**are**__ slightly edited because of repetition, so if you notice that it's missing a chorus or two understand that I'm only trying to make the story better/less long-winded. _

_So here you go, the happy beginning-of-real-Tryan chapter that you've all been waiting for : Enjoy!!_

_PS::__ For the next ten days, I will be gone up north in Minnesota or some such area to go skiing, and then am traveling to Louisburg, PA to spend Christmas with the grandparents. I'd much rather not go; I prefer nice, semi-warm Texas Christmases where I can come downstairs in my moose boxers and a short-sleeve shirt, but my parents booked the flights months ago, so I have no choice. I do love to travel though; I usually have about 8 plane flights a year (two to North Captiva Island, Florida for spring break; two back; two to Silver Bay, NY; two back). This year I shall have been on 14 plane rides; two up north and two back. I've been making the 8 trips ever since I was born, so I am "airport-savvy". I also like riding in cars, because I either plug myself into my ipod and blast it as loud as I can to absorb every note, or I stare off into the passing land while just thinking. Nowadays, it usually has to do with my stories, haha, but I usually get all my good thinking done on car rides or right before I go to bed. I __**am**__ bringing my precious, crappy laptop with me, so I will still be working on the next chapters. My internet access __**will**__ be limited though, as this old piece of junk doesn't have internet access. I shall have internet at my grandparent's house, but I obviously will rarely be allowed on, and even then they have dial-up. Wish me luck._

_If I'm not able to post some fun holiday fanfic drabble on the big day, a very, very Merry ChristmaHanaKwanzUka to all my lovely reviewers/readers. : Hope your special day is amazing!_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Will you count me in?**

The summer was more than a little more than half over and I was officially crazy about Ryan. Day in and day out I soaked in his indescribable presence and began to crack open the shell that was his personality.

He wasn't afraid to try new things, just slightly worried about the outcome. He had nothing against sports, just was already committed to musical theatre. He certainly wasn't afraid of his sister, and loved her more than he let on. He didn't talk very much because usually no one stopped long enough to listen; so he figured why bother say anything in the first place. He had had a girlfriend for a month back in sixth grade, a boyfriend for two days in eighth and nothing since then. He loved the simple things but didn't refuse the luxurious ones either. He didn't have that many friends because he really only needed his sister to be happy; everyone in their group of friends hung out with them because of Sharpay anyways. He was afraid of water because of a bad experience in his past, and the same went for driving. He listened more than he talked because he had found you can be far more informed about the things around you if you simply shut up. He didn't easily depend on people because he found that most people turn out to be disappointing; that's why he waited until he really knew a person to trust them. I felt honored to officially be one of the two people.

I remember the first time that I really felt trusted by Ryan after he told be about his "history" was when we were flipping channels on a disgustingly hot Monday morning. I had just clicked us onto TV Land, where "Full House" was showing. One of the younger girls seemed to have accidentally walked out a store with a blue sweatshirt or something. I was about to click onto something more interesting, when Ryan stopped my hand.

"Don't change the channel, I want to watch this"

I stared at him.

"Are you kidding? I know you're an Evans…but 'Full House'?"

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing a little. "Sharpay and I used to watch this every Monday morning over breaks. It was our tradition"

I glanced from my odd little roommate, to the TV, and then back again before setting the remote on the table and leaning back into the couch. If watching "Full House" was something that the twins would always do together, and Ryan told me this, and he was watching it with me know with a funny smile on his face, then I wasn't as heck about to change the channel.

As Ryan leaked some of his thoughts to me, I found myself telling him things I hadn't even told Chad. How I had become afraid of big crowds; my dad had lost me in a cruise ship and I, a four year old, had been stuck in the middle of a large group of shoving adults for forty minutes before he found me. How my dad could really be controlling about my life, whether it be about basketball, girlfriends, or college. How much I really did want a close sibling like Ryan had; a relative I could really talk to when I was unsure of something. I even told him that I had once wished that I could have my own Sharpay to simply follow. The idea of being a follower sounded ten times better than being a leader 95 percent of the time,_especially_ when it came to basketball.

Sometimes he would comment on a few of the things I said, but on the most part he just listened. That was exactly what I needed, as when I spilled secrets I tended to gush and vent, which required people not to interrupt. If there was anything Ryan was certainly _not_, it was an interrupter. So we sort of helped each other out in the conversation exchange area.

**I've been awake for a while now**

Most morning by then I stopped rolling out of the bed immediately or pushing Ryan away. I put my arms behind my head and smiled when I saw his face pressed unknowingly against the side of my chest. It was often then that I ran my fingers through his hair and got goose bumps whenever his bare skin brushed against mine. I didn't see any reason to immediately get out of bed. I didn't have any place to be any time soon.

It was almost funny; even when he slept Ryan had me under his thumb. Some of his most beautiful moments were when he slept. The way the summer sunshine crept slowly over his pale, serene features, making him warm at the touch.

Since it was summer and we could sleep in and achieve sleep, every day was a lazy start. I was so comfortable I could have sworn my bones had sunk into the sheets. I wouldn't have been able to move even if I had _wanted_ to. Most of the time after the first morning Ryan rolled against me (half asleep) we would wake up close to each other. And not just close; it was a closer than would be deemed normal between two males. But the funny thing was that neither of us seemed to find it unusual at all. Even if I had fallen asleep with my arms still wrapped around him, when Ryan awoke he would know it was just from the nightmares and roll away for my comfort if only to snuggle back in his sleep. Three fourths of the time he was right about the nightmares causing my arms to wrap around him the way they did. But it was very rare that he would wake up before me; the guy slept like a rock, but I had a body clock that woke me up at the same time every day.

So it was me who would lie in bed with eyes wide open, just blissfully soaking in life and sometimes have one arm around my small-boned, fragile roommate…

**You've got me feeling like a child now**

If people thought that I acted like a kid around Gabriella, they would have been shocked to see me around Ryan. Something about his inverted nature caused me to do crazy things to bring out that hidden smile and make him laugh. At times I would act goofy for hours on end until it was all over; Ryan would laugh at my foolishness and I would be victorious. If Gabriella and I had been like Kindergarteners, as she had insisted we were, then Ryan and I were about fourth grade. The swatting at each other with towels is one example, and before that the splashing of the fountain water had only been the beginning.

The reason we weren't in the Preschool category was because our "relationship", or whatever you choose to call it, wasn't nearly as innocent as that. We discussed serious things like politics and life in general at some points, but then in the next ten minutes we would switch to which shad of blue was the best. The best in between point of childhood and adulthood would have to be fourth grade, so there you go.

I had always though it was fairly "world-wise" before the summer started. Not smart—I got good grades, but good enough to be considered "smart", and I knew that—but just knowledgeable of the world and many of the things in it. But Ryan always put me in my place, noticing all the things I didn't; when someone was upset about something, the way my parents worked together to get through any problems, how beautiful the sunset was, when any of our friends were acting particularly awkward because so-and-so were slathering all over each other, how dazzling the city lights looked at midnight when you blurred your eyes or looked at it from far away…the list went on and on.

And just when I thought I was really beginning to master the whole deep-thing and said something less shallow than normal, he would respond with a thought so un-earthly it would leave me speechless and feeling I was a five-year-old talking to a grandpa. The guy always found new ways to surprise me or throw me off balance.

**Cause every time I see your bubbly face**

You read books and see movies where guys talk about how beautiful they find their girlfriend, lover, wife, what-have-you. They pick up on the little things they do and go on for hours about how cute it is, how wonderful their ear wax is blah blee blah blah blah.

The weird thing was that I began to notice those tiny little things about Ryan. When he was nervous, he would rub either the back of his neck or his left arm, depending on how nervous or uncomfortable he really was. When Ryan became confused, he would cock his head slightly and his eyes became a little fuzzed over with puzzlement. When he was sad or depressed, his face would usually be void of expression except for his eyes, and I have already describes what chills a human being can get looking into those deep wells. Whenever he talked about Sharpay, he would get a soft glow over his face and his cheeks would gently flush, as if showing his affection for his twin sister was something that he wasn't used to people seeing.

And sadly, I also remembered quite clearly how he looked when he was scared; whether in his sleep or wide awake. If sleeping, the perspiration on his brow, contracted muscles, contorted face, and shaking frame. If awake, eyes wide open and mouth clamped viciously tight together, his fists clenching and unclenching (I had seen an example of this when we walked by a deep pond right next to the grocery store).

But my favorite expression had to be his happy one. When he truly smiled, which was usually only when he was alone with me, his smile seemed to extend beyond his mouth and leak into his eyes; it wasn't something one body part showed. He would let out a small giggle, and then rethink about the joke or situation, and in most cases begin to laugh harder.

However, I didn't need him to let out a smooth, velvety laugh. Just drinking in his earth-shattering smile on that round, sweet, good-natured face was enough to make my day and cause me to grin from ear to ear.

**I get the tinglies in a silly place**

I remembered once upon a time when I had lusted after Gabriella. She was never what you would call a "hot" girl, but I had thought her gorgeous once. You can imagine how, being a straight teenage guy I was overjoyed when all my persistence finally won over Gabriella and convinced her to lose her virginity with me. Obviously, I little knew I was creating a sex whore…and after we broke up I looked back and realized with horror just how shallow a guy I really was.

But with Ryan, everything was different. Besides the obvious fact that he was a boy and we were both gay, whenever I had a "lust moment", it wasn't an I-want-to-go-have-sex-with-you moment. It was more an I-want-to-hold-you-in-my-amrs-forever-and-kiss-the-daylights-out-of-you moment.

And the "lust moments" weren't because of how he looked, as tended to be the case with Gabriella. Sure, he was beautiful to the point of lightheadedness, I wasn't afraid to admit, but most of the time I didn't get goose bumps from his smile or firm legs. I tended to shiver all over when he stepped out of his way to ask Martha Cox what was wrong on the gang's way to a movie. We were all startled when the girl who we had assumed to be always happy burst into a flurry of tears and confessed that she was worried about her parents divorcing, and what would become of the bond she had created with her sisters. Ryan proceeded to take aside comfort the girl he barely knew, asking her a few questions about how her parents treated each other, and told her of how he and Sharpay had managed to stay close through_their_parent's divorce. Needless to say, I was shocked out of my socks to see him being to open about his personal life with another person.

It was after Martha considerably cheered up and, thanking him endlessly, skipped back to the group with an optimistic outlook again that I truly felt like I could have kissed the daylights out of the younger Evan twin.

**It starts at my toes and I crinkle my nose**

**Wherever it goes I always know**

I remember Ryan looking over at me after Martha left, and it was just us two sitting on a bench nearby the ticket counter at the movie theatre in the local mall.

"What?" he asked, pink dust settling on his cheeks. I realized he was referring to the look I must have been giving him, and I only shook my head, unable to wipe a goofy grin off my face.

"Oh…nothing. Just nothing"

He didn't look convinced, but I didn't really care. I was too greatly enjoying the privilege to just look at him and relish in the warm fuzz that trickled first from the tips of my toes and then all the way up to my noggin, making me almost twitch like a nerd with the pleasure.

Ryan eventually gave up trying to figure out why I was smiling and stuck his tongue out at me. Evidently he was in a "preschool" mood that day, so I only wrinkled my nose at him, stupid smile still stuck to my lips like duct tape had made it stay there.

I really loved summer. I had never realized just how much until Ryan Evans shared a room with me and I got to spend most of the season with him.

**That you make me smile**

It seemed impossible that such a small person that I had thought for a good ten years was boring could have such an impact on me. It seemed impossible that Ryan could make me think harder than I ever had before, become more depressed than I ever had before, try a bran muffin for the first time, officially change my sexuality, and even make me laugh my ass off as I had never done with any of my basketball buds or previous girlfriends. Maybe it was the way he just spat out ridiculous phrases as if he was talking about gas prices. His tone wouldn't change at all; he would just walk right into the joke and make me feel as if the carpet had been yanked out from underneath my feet. First we're talking about annoying teachers at East High, and then the next thing I know I'm on my living room floor laughing tears into my eyes while he just smirks and shakes from suppressed laughter and his success to catch me completely off guard.

**Please stay for a while now**

**Just take your time where ever you go**

One morning, as I was lying in bed with one arm slung around his shoulders, the inevitable truth; at some point in the not-too-distant future, Ryan's mom would find a job and a cheap house, Sharpay's neck would heal, and I would have my room all to myself again. It was a nasty, horrible thought, but it couldn't be helped. I shifted my gaze from the ceiling to the teenage boy practically in my arms and sighed deeply. Now that I had woken so many mornings to see the sunshine hit the angelic face of my classmate, I was never again content to wake up to the sight of a Wildcat poster.

At that point in my life, if I could have spun the world on my index finger like I did with a basketball, I would have made it so that Ryan should never have to move out. That our moms would go on searching for jobs and houses forever, and school shouldn't start again, and that the summer would just go on and on and on and we would never have to break our routine that I had become addicted too.

It made me almost feel like crying like a baby to think about sleeping soundly through the night, not having to wake up to comfort a roommate suffering from a sleep disorder. To think about not having to remind my mother every Wednesday to buy some bran muffins and, later on the same day, to bug her about whether or not the drugs for Ryan had arrived yet. To think about not having someone to drag along to a movie or a party with the general gang. To think about not having someone to tell my darkest and most secret thoughts too.

As if afraid that some goblin should come drag Ryan away from the house that very second, I buried my nose in his hair and inhaled deeply several times, savoring its silky feel and captivating aroma, yet at the same time trying to embed it in my brain forever.

**The rain is falling on my window pane**

**But we are hiding in a safer place**

On miserable days for Ryan, when he really couldn't support himself anymore, it became a standard that I give him piggyback rides that I reveled in. In the morning, when I returned from washing up, if Ryan was still sitting up in bed and had on an unpleasant grimace, we both knew he wouldn't be doing much walking that day. Maybe hopping on one foot for really short distances, but if he wanted to move to another room he mostly depended on me.

If he had felt like that on a school day, everyone would have whispered to each other about how weird it was that Troy Bolton, the basketball captain, was giving Ryan Evans, the drama king, a piggyback ride down stairs and even carrying him an ice pack and a bran muffin. But that was what I loved so much about my house; it was its own little safe haven. I—or we, rather—could do whatever we wanted to, and there was no one to say us nay. I could talk about Gabriella on days when other people would have shot it down, or state my honest opinion about the rally for gay rights downtown while everyone I knew was disgusted by the very idea.

I felt as free as a bird in my house, a feeling which in all my years of living in the building I had never felt before. It seemed only natural that Ryan should be the one to bring out that new trait in my home and really make it stick. To be bluntly open, he had made me come to terms with the fact that I really was gay, or bisexual, and accept it as one of my qualities. Of course, I hadn't told anybody I had finally come to terms; the secret lay with Ryan and the house.

And the rain. The rain is what really brought out the best in the house. It made me want to curl up next to Ryan and spill out my soul, and think all the gay thoughts my head could manage. It made everything so cozy…and safe.

**Under covers staying dry and warm**

**You give me feelings that I adore**

It's truthful to say that some of the more "cozy" moments of Ryan and me happened on our bed. Not like you all are thinking, you nasty perverts. But it was on the bed that we shared that we slept and had physical therapy sessions. I have already gone into details about the long nights, but I shall elaborate a bit more on therapy sessions.

Whoever said football is the "gayest" thing in the entire world obviously had never done physical therapy with another guy. As I've said before, you are pretty much constantly touching the other male, and believe me; even touching near Ryan Evan's hips will give your mind thoughts you'd _never_ thought you'd think. And oh man, those thoughts are things I still mull over to this day like you would with a long-lasting piece of gum. A person would conclude that the main point of consideration during a physical therapy session would be the main and medical attention, and although that was obviously a large part of it, Ryan and I would somehow manage to talk about other things amid the groans of pain that caused lower areas to react. It really didn't matter what we talked about; just as long as it wasn't about the pain itself it seemed to help the poor guy slightly out of his misery.

I hated the sessions for the pain it brought Ryan, but at the same time I cherished the close moments and feelings that came as a result of it. After it was over, I would help him lie down on the bed to regain his composure, and if he muscles were still tense I would sometimes rake my fingernails gently over his scalp. Again and again I told myself to stop and that it was far to bold on my part, but Ryan never uttered a word about it, and would merely close his eyes and allow my unasked-for fingers to ghost over his skin and sooth him into a light doze.

It was times like that that I would have to bite my lip to stop myself from uttering the only word my mind was able to put forth; "beautiful".

**But what am I gonna say**

**When you make me feel this way**

We had finished just watching "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry", and were getting ready for bed. I was wiping the suds out of my eye when it occurred to me. What was stopping me from asking Ryan out? I mean, guys did have boyfriends, didn't they? And they went on dates and chatted and…even kissed. The last thought made me shiver, but the logic of it slapped me in the face. Why hadn't I thought of it before? People did it every day, so why shouldn't I?

_Besides the obvious fact that you've never asked a _guy_ out before and have no idea what the heck you're doing!_ I corrected myself harshly as I dried off and shoved on pajamas._Ryan's had a boyfriend, you heard him say so. You have no idea how to be a gay boyfriend…no idea whatsoever! What are you getting yourself into?_

I still hadn't answered that question when Ryan came back from washing up and crawled into bed next to me. The Grapes of Wrath was sitting untouched in my lap as I leaned against the headboard, trying to summon up the courage to say something—to say _anything_.

"Hey…Ryan?"

He looked up in very mild surprise.

"What?"

"I…ummm…do you…would you…could…shit," I finally muttered, rubbing in my neck in frustration. I, Troy freaking-Bolton, the guy who was supposed to be so hip with relationships and phrases and who gives a damn what else, had lost my cool over Ryan Evans. Ryan Evans! This was ridiculous!

I knew I should spit it all out in a hurry, like they do in movies and books, and then Ryan would ask what I said, and I would be able to say it again slower. But the problem was NOTHING, not even a fast flurry of nonsense, was issuing from my mouth.

Ryan seemed greatly upset about my sudden inability to make sense.

"Would I…what?"

"Go………out." That was all I managed to spit out before my tongue turned to lead again. _No, damn it, you fool, you sound like you want him to go away and leave! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???_

"Umm, okay," Ryan said unsurely, throwing the blanket off his legs and making to get up. "I can step out of the room for a minute if you need—"

"**NO!**"_Great,_ now that I was speaking, I was yelling at the poor guy. "I meant…with………me." The last word came out in a whisper as I forced myself to do what the rest of me was trying to stop me from doing. If that last sentence didn't make sense, it's okay, just pretend you didn't read it and move on.

"Go…out…with you?" Ryan seemed to have become very out-of-breath very randomly. He was staring at me like I was out of my mind, and couldn't possibly have meant what I just said. "Did…do…you mean it?"

"Umm…yeah," I finally blurted out, blushing like the fool I was and grinning stupidly again. He didn't say anything, but just continued to stare amazed at me until I felt ten times for awkward than I had to begin with. "So…would you?"

"Yeah," he murmured faintly, rubbing his arm, and at last softly chuckling himself back into the real world. "I…yeah"

**I just...mmmmmmmm**

We grinned at each other like mindless idiots from opposite sides of the bed; my legs underneath the covers, his hanging off, my hands resting on The Grapes of Wrath cover, his holding himself in an upright position, my shirt off, a shirt of mine still securely on his torso, my hair ridiculously tangled, his lying perfectly about his small ears……boyfriends. Boyfriends.

* * *

_-Gasps for air- Phew, at last I finished it. I've been slaving away at this sucker for almost two hours now, trying to get it done in time to leave you all with something to chew on until I can access the internet again. So be __happy__, or else, haha._

_Yes, I know the second half of the song is missing. Halfway into writing this I realized I was writing too much to fit the entire thing into one chapter, and it was getting late, so I decided to split the songfic into two chapters. The other shouldn't be too long in updating, and complete the beginning-of-Tryanness. Don't forget to__** REVIEW**__, though I doubt I need to remind you anymore, haha._

_A quick note about Sharpay__: yes, yes, I know her neck should have healed __ages__ ago, but I have so much planned for the two that she'll have to wait a little bit longer to make her reappearance. I haven't forgotten the poor girl completely, don't worry; Sharpay shall return, but only after things have become interesting._


	11. Chapter 10

_Here's my little New Year Present to you all; a semi-quick update for you all._

_So, these_ lyrics_ to "Bubbly" in this chapter kind are from Ryan's POV, if you will, though the actual _writing_ is still from Troy's POV. Confusing, I know, but it just adds to the general fluff of the story, if you follow me :_

_R&R, as always, you know the drill. Happy 2008, everyone; let's hope it's the Year of the Fangirls, haha._

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**I've been asleep for a while now**

**You tuck me in just like a child now**

I woke up the next morning, trying to remember why I felt so good. Have you ever had that happen; you wake up one morning feeling like the entire world is going your way, and you have no clue why? I rolled over on my side, wracking my brain for a reason—and then I saw it. Ryan Evans was tangled up inside our shared bed sheets, golden hair shoved up at a rakish angle, right cheek smashed against my ribcage. And he was _my boyfriend_. (A quick note on the phrase _my boyfriend_: isn't it a wonderful phrase? I could say it forever…._ my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend, my boyfriend…._but you get the picture). To stay on topic, if a guy had to be gay, Ryan was the ideal, dream boyfriend. As we had started dating the previous night, I obviously didn't know how he was as an actual _boyfriend_, but he was the ideal person to be _dating_, you know what I mean?

I grinned to myself at the sight of the covers wound in ridiculous patterns around his porcelain body. How could he have possibly bound himself like that _in his sleep_? Sleep's fog still lingering in my mind, I groggily leaned over and gently undid the ridiculous covers, draping them over Ryan in a more practical fashion. He mumbled something incoherent and nestled his chin deeper against the sheets.

Not really knowing why I did so, I reached over and pushed the sheet in carefully around him, almost making a little cocoon. Maybe I did it out of habit. What habit that was, I surely did not know. Maybe I was a perfectionist, or had OCD. Those were vaguely possible, but I had never before that morning showed symptoms. Maybe I wanted to be a good boyfriend. Maybe that was it. I'll leave it to you readers to decide.

**'Cause every time you hold me in your arms**

The first breakfast was especially awkward. Neither of us really knew what the other one was comfortable with or used to, and both of us wanted to get the whole thing sorted out immediately so that the whole relationship wouldn't go down the tubes. So, as it was Ryan's turn to place the dishes in the dishwasher, instead of automatically going over to the TV and immediately flipping channels as I always did on such days, I tested our comfort zones. I walked up and surprised _my boyfriend_ with a hug from behind. He sort of tensed up, and then flushed adorably while trying to continue with his chore. So far so good.

"Troy, I'm trying to do the dishes," he muttered as I refused to let go of him. Hey, now that I was allowed to hug him with the excuse that we were dating, I was going to take advantage of it.

"And I'm trying to hug you," I said conceitedly, hindering him moving anywhere by pulling him closer to me.

"And if you don't let go of me we'll never get anything done!" he pointed out while smiling.

"Would that be so bad?" I really didn't feel like practicing self-discipline that morning.

"Our moms might get mad"

"Would that be so bad?"

"They might make one of us go with them on their car rides"

"That would be bad," I admitted, finally letting go of him and leaning back against the kitchen counter. "It's a tough tie at which thought is worse; spending a long day in the car with our moms or spending a summer day without Rya—what's your middle name?"

"Christopher"

Christopher. That was a really good middle name. Ryan Christopher Evans; it just rolled off your tongue, and had a nice, crisp sound to it.

"—without Ryan Christopher Evans on the premises"

He was tomato red by then. "You don't mean that." Right as I about to open my mouth, he completed the statement. "It would be a car ride with our moms, hands down"

We both started cracking up before he even finished saying the mini-punch line, knowing how accurate the statement really was. The only torture worse than stuck in a small space with talkative, middle-aged mothers was either Chinese water torture or hour-long Physics videos. The electric chair held nothing to our mother's mouths.

I walked over as I normally did to the couch and began to flip channels, seeing if anything interesting awaited us in the morning shows. But, unlike normal, once Ryan finished doing the dishes, he came at sat by me—_right next to me_. In previous mornings, we usually had about three feet of couch pleather between us, but that first morning I doubt if we had two centimeters. Not that I was complaining, of course. Who would? I mean seriously; who in their right mind would have turned to a guy like that and been like, "Hey, you are bursting my bubble, go sit down at the other end of the couch." No; you shut your mouth and hope that he didn't move away.

I decided to press my luck and casually put an arm around his shoulders, the other arm holding up the hand that was changing the channels. I really wouldn't have been surprised if he had pushed away my arm in surprised shock, but he only rested his head against it, eyes still intent on the images flashing across the flat screen.

**I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth**

You really could tell just by looking at the pair of us that we weren't morning people. Without even noticing what the other was doing, we both began to nod off in the warm comfort of human beings and pleather couches in late July. I was the first one to realize our mishap, and gently shook my arm underneath his head.

"Hey," I said in an undertone. "You just woke up. Don't go back to sleep already"

"Urwerm," he mumbled incomprehensibly, lightly hitting a hand against my arm.

"Say what?"

"You're warm"

"Ry, it's summer. All of New Mexico is warm"

"I know. You're warm"

Warm is a very different word than hot. Hot falls under the category of complimenting someone on their body and is very sexual. Warm, on the other hand…it's either very innocent or very, _very_ dirty. I like that kind of word. After all, I _am_ only human, and a male, at that.

"That's good to know if it's wintertime, but as it's not, I really don't think my body temp—"

"Shush. Just watch the TV"

He snuggled a little closer, so I decided to follow his advice to shut up and just watch the television. I'm a weak one, I know, but if Ryan Evans was _your_boyfriend, which thank goodness he isn't (no offense to you all), if he first told you that you were warm and then snuggled against you, would you honestly move? If you said yes, go seek counseling.

**It starts in my soul and I lose all control**

**When you kiss my nose the feeling shows**

Being an actor, it was only natural that Ryan was trained on how to control his facial expressions and hide his emotions. You probably gathered this from the information of Ryan's revealed—or should I say, unrevealed—feelings at the beginning of our time together. Trying to read his face was like me trying to reread my Chem-Lab notes; impossible in the greatest sense.

But now that had cracked past the outward shell, it was like discovering tons of pearls inside one oyster. He stopped bothering to put up a front, and got into the pleasant habit of just letting his expressions be real and take complete control of his face. It was absolutely beautiful to watch everything going through his mind race across his face like they were in some triathlon. When he thought something on the late-night TV was hilarious, he let himself double over and he gasped for breath between bursts of laughter. And I would laugh at him laughing, and eventually summon enough courage to pull him to my side and rest my head against his. He would suddenly grow quiet, and our hands would find each other in between our hips. I would quiet down, and look down into his glorious eyes, which were glowing. Leaning down, and taking care not to startle him in any way, I would lightly kiss him on the nose. I didn't dare do anything bolder, but neither of us gave a care.

When I pulled away from my small, but hopefully-meaningful show of affection his eyes would be closed, and his face blank in a blissful sereneness. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smile would creep over his lips and his eyes would open. Our heads were positioned so that when his peepers would open that our gazes would meet back up almost immediately.

What a summer it was turning out to be.

**'Cause you make me smile**

**Baby, just take your time now**

It struck me a few days after we started dating that even though we for a short time lived in the same house, we should probably go on a date; a real, official date, out to dinner and such. Of course, we couldn't be terribly obvious about our sexuality in a big fancy restaurant (there are so many homophobes in the world), but we could still go as, at the very least, "chums".

I asked Ryan what he thought about the idea the next night as we got ready for bed. He looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. Ryan asked permission to draw out a map of places for us to go after the dinner. Still having some sense stored up somewhere in my brain, I told him I'd be _more_than happy to take a drive with him after dinner. In the movies, those things are always the most romantic. Who cares if it was all straight relationships in those scenarios? It's the concept that matters.

Dinner was slightly awkward, but neither of us had really expected any less, because, as I said before, there was a 70 chance (just guessing) that the people around us were homophobic. We just ate dinner and tried to keep our talk as casual as if we were just two best friends hanging out. And let me tell you, it's harder than it sounds trying to restrain yourself from telling Ryan how incredible he looks in his tight dark jeans, nice shirt and casual jacket, especially when he's self-consciously tugging at his icy blue tie that perfectly matches his eyes. At last, on the pretext of reaching over to get another napkin, I bent over across the table and whispered into his ear "you look amazing, by the way". I sat back down, and was pleased to see Ryan blushing brilliantly from my hushed compliment. He tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and smiled warmly at me, and I suddenly wanted to be in the movie "Click" and have the remote so that I might freeze him in the position he was in; shy, blushing, but grateful…and, above all, smiling.

After dinner, Ryan handed me a map where he had circled all of his favorite places around Albuquerque that we should visit. It wasn't a crazy, wild, care-free drive; we didn't try to hurry the affair, but merely parked downtown and walked hand-in-hand through the streets as we took turns pointing out things of interest to one another. Every now and again we had to side-step into an alley to avoid an untimely meaning with so-and-so, but that really only made the evening more exciting; the chance of being caught tends to do that to guys. One glance at Ryan's shining face told me that I was not alone in the thrill of going against the rules.

"Who would have thought it; Ryan Evans, a rebel," I teased him lightly, wrapping an arm cautiously around his waist. I let it relax there more affectionately once I saw that Ryan wasn't made uncomfortable by its presence.

"Who would have thought it; Troy Bolton, dating Sharpay's _brother_," he corrected agreeably, sipping at a small vanilla shake. It struck me as very ironic that about a month before that day Chad had been sipping a large, _chocolate_ shake in a very different context…when _everything_had been very different. No, I was not thinking milkshake flavors in a racist and perverted way—keep your mild out of the gutter, sheesh!

Ryan gave me a look that questioned why I had grown silent, and I knew he was reading some of my thoughts; I had stopped doubting his abilities in that category.

"What'cha thinking about?" At least he was decent and pretended not to know everything.

I smiled, and craned my neck far enough down to give him the signature peck on the nose, rubbing his hand with my thumb.

"Nothing; I'm just glad you're here…with me…right now"

He looked into my eyes, and one his mysterious, unreadable smiles crossed his face as he cocked his head slightly away from me. That is, before he startled me completely by leaning over and kissing me quickly on the cheek, so fast that it felt like a butterfly wing had tickled me.

"I know exactly how you feel"

**holding me tight**

There was one night when Ryan actually woke up before the night terrors really got going. He was just starting to show the second string of tosses and turns when his eyes suddenly popped open, and he suddenly began to sob.

"Troy? Troy?" His hands were rummaging around to find out where I was in the bed. "Troy?"

"I'm right here, Ry," I said quickly, wrapping my arms around his waist and bringing his head right against my chest.

"I can't breathe…so much water…"

So it was the same nightmare he had had before. Only now I could hug him.

"I got you; you're not going to drown." He didn't seem convinced; he was still trembling and panicking. "I'm not about to let go, so you're not going anywhere any time soon"

I tightened my arms around Ryan, making sure that he was practically incapable to ignore the fact that I was indeed holding him. To my great pleasure, he finally grasped the idea and calmed down, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

"Emsery," he mumbled into my skin, causing the tingles to erupt everywhere _yet again._

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry 'bout that. I probably freaked you out"

"Naw, just startled me a little, that's all"

He sighed, and relaxed in my arms completely. I felt like purring. I was so predictable it was almost depressing.

"You feel better?" I asked gently.

"Yeah"

"Want me to let go?"

Ryan turned so that his chin was resting on my ribcage, and looked up at me. It was the strangest feeling of déjà vu, for he had done the same thing earlier in the summer when we weren't dating. So he really had been awake then, and _that_was something to derive comfort from.

"Not really"

**Wherever, wherever, wherever you go**

My dad had signed me up for a week-long basketball camp the last week in July. I didn't want to go at all, but the money was already paid. Don't mess with my parents on money matters.

"I'm 17," he pointed out quietly the morning of my departure, looking slightly amused. "I've taken care of myself before"

"I know that," I chuckled quietly. But we both knew what I meant. For almost two months we had slept, ate, and practically lived together. At the start of the summer, Ryan had been a traumatized mess. But now…he was a little different, to say the least. And I wasn't really up to taking the chance that with me gone, all that might slip away; that _Ryan_might slip away. I had caught him, and I didn't feel like letting go.

"The week will be gone before you know it," Ryan said with feigned happiness in his voice, but it fell flat on both of us. "It's only seven days; you'll be back early Monday morning"

"Yeah," was all I said.

A beeping horn outside the house meant that Chad and crew were ready to pick me up.

"I…have to go," I muttered, not moving an inch.

"Yeah"

We stood right next to each other like complete idiots with out hands at our sides in the front hallway as Chad, who was most likely at the wheel, repeatedly beeped the horn.

"Chad will be so pissed at me for taking so long"

"Probably"

"He might come up to the door, he's really impatient"

"He might," Ryan agreed.

I was holding a violent inner battle with myself. _What should I do? Kiss him? But we seriously haven't been dating that long, and everybody knows that you don't kiss someone if you haven't been dating them for a while! My God, I sound like Sharpay. Lord help me. But seriously, what should I do?_

Finally, I shoved myself into action and leaned in towards Ryan. He didn't move, but stood rigid, his eyes wide open and following my every move. Instead of kissing him on the lips as—judging by the look on his face—he suspected me to do, I kissed him gently on the nose again. When I pulled away, he was smiling again. I smiled in response. That would do.

One last tight hug and I was sprinting out towards the car full of impatient basketball jocks. Jammed in between Zeke and Jason, I casually turned halfway around in my seat for one final glance at my house. Ryan was still standing in the doorway, watching the car drive away.

"I'm surprised Ryan saw you off," Chad hollered back from the driver's seat as he screeched to a scary stop and the last possible second. "I thought he would be more along the lines of shooing you out the door and throwing a house party in your absence"

Only the back window saw my smile as I rested my head against my arm, eyes still glued on the blonde in the entrance to my house.

**wherever, wherever, wherever you go**

I flopped wearily down on a bench next to the court, resting my arms on my head, at the same time protecting my eyes from the bright sunshine. The week seemed to be taking ten years to pass, though a person would think the hours would fly by because of the unending exercise. But my thoughts, even as I was pounding down the court, were far from the normally exhilarating game of basketball. Instead, thoughts of what my little blonde boyfriend might be doing at home captured all of my attention. And I didn't have to be guilty in thinking about him in the smallest way possible; we were officially together. Too bad nobody else knew about it…

As you probably guessed, I hadn't told Chad and others about Ryan and me. I just didn't know how they stood on the subject of homosexuality, or what they would think of me "rebounding" from Gabriella with a guy. None of my guy friends were gay as far as I knew, and so the basketball team hadn't had the chance to show their feelings on the matter. I didn't think they would exactly go beat up the two of us or anything that crazy, but…I still didn't want to ruin the friendships I had had for so long. I planned to stake out the territory and test the waters.

But really, the separation from Ryan had hit me harder than I thought I was going to. I had never really been the kind of guy who goes crying after his mommy at his first sleepover. Usually I was a rather independent kind of guy; even when I had dated Gabriella I had never been particularly dependent to talk to her on the phone _every single night_ or "clingy". Not that I was "dependent" or "clingy" with Ryan either…but I missed him harder than I had missed Gabbi when she went away on a family vacation or field trip or something. I felt like a wolf had come and taken a big bite out of me, and my body was missing that part. A big gap of me was aching for someone, and, even if I wasn't a scholastic decathlon member, I had brains enough to guess who the "someone" was. I missed Ryan, and missed him pretty badly. Maybe it was because I had spent every day and almost every hour with him, which I had never done with Gabbi for obvious reasons. Maybe it was just Ryan.

"Hey, earth to captain?"

I opened my eyes to look up into Chad's curious, familiar face.

"Hmmm?"

"Tired already, or are you ready to run drills again? Coach Tanner is giving us a look." He snorted lightly. "Or maybe he's just glaring at me for flirting with his daughter, the water girl. It's not my fault that blonde chick's incredibly hot, right?" He playfully punched me on the shoulder as I sat up. "Maybe if you come support me on this he'll give a little ground or something"

I gave him a blank look.

"Support you with what now?"

Chad seemed taken aback by my lack of attention and continued on slowly.

"On the fact that his daughter is too attractive, and therefore too distracting. I mean, the girl is hot, ain't she?"

See what I mean? Though he didn't mean to test my sexuality, Chad Danforth had done exactly that. I didn't think the girl was hot in the slightest, but I also didn't want to put down my best friend.

"Yeah, I guess so"

Chad grinned, and patted me on the shoulder, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"It's okay to check out other girls now, dude." I gaped up at him in surprise. "I know you were hurt by Gabriella, but y'all aren't dating now!" He waved his arms around in an encompassing move. "The world's yours to take, man! Go on dates, flirt, have a crush; the world's yours to take! Nothing's holding you back!"

Ironic, isn't it? I mean, really; my best friend was going on about how I free I was and how I should take advantage of the situation when in all actuality I was in a relationship…with a guy, none the less.

"Actually, man, I do sort of have some strings attached." There; that was a slight start to a confession.

Chad's eyebrows shot up into his bushy hair.

"Really?_Who?_"

I only gave him a knowing grin, and shook my head.

"Couldn't tell you"

He rolled his eyes, giving up at last.

"Some mysterious lover we'll find out about only when you two are passionately making-out in the basketball locker room?"

The knowing grin turned into a smirk.

"You could say that"

**Oh wherever you go **

The silent minivan drove up to my dark house.

"Do you want me to wait to see if you get inside?" Mrs. Danforth asked nicely.

"No," I murmured, a smile slipping across my mouth. "Ryan will be home"

"He might be off doing something," Chad said dubiously from his seat in shotgun.

I mumbled an incoherent dismissal of the idea and stumbled sleepily out of the car, softly thanking Mrs. Danforth for the ride and telling everyone I would see them on Wednesday for off-season practice. I heard the van drive away behind me as I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder as I hobbled towards my home. There were no people around when I rang the doorbell.

It took a minute or two of waiting, but as last the door swung open. And there stood my Ryan, in slightly baggy, but still tiny, grey sweat pants and a raggedy old Coca Cola shirt of mine, his hair still askew. I had woken him up.

"Hey," I whispered, dropping my duffel inside the door to give him a full hug. Not a manly hug that kept an arm between the two of you; my arms wrapped around his torso and his around mine, bringing us very close together. He said nothing in return, but buried his face into my shoulder, and I could feel a smile on his lips against my shirt.

I ran my face from his right cheek all the way down to his neck, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that his eyes were closed, a small smile still tugging at his lips. I felt a shiver of pleasure run through me as I realized I wasn't the only one glad to see my boyfriend. I inhaled deeply, rejoicing in his smell—I had really missed it. Letting my feelings take over for a moment, I ran my hand slowly up and down his lower back, my face still buried in his neck. I did manage enough control to keep my hands on the outside of his shirt. I heard Ryan softly exhale, and to be honest I was shocked he wasn't protesting my actions more.

I lifted my head out of Ryan's shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. They were open, and oddly glazed over. Not an out-of-the-world or possessed-creepy glazed…but a look I never thought I would see in the eyes of Ryan. We had only been dating like a week and a half; however, if you counted all the days we had lived together and known each other, it was_ almost_ like we had been dating two months. Could I be reading signs right? I had not shown Ryan large, forward signs of affection only because I did not want to scare him off. But if I could read Ryan's eyes, and I could almost all of the time…I slowly leaned in towards his face, and saw that he wasn't moving. His eyes were closed.

My nose brushed against his, and I momentarily paused. In my mind, I was giving him time to pull away. He didn't pull away. Thoughts raced through my mind. If I kissed him, I would be officially, officially gay. Not like in-between-stages-when-you're-trying-to-figure-out-what-your-sexuality-is gay; officially gay. Or bisexual, whichever. A guy could always think about kissing another guy, and I had done plenty of that. A guy could ask out another guy and have the whole thing still be an experiment. But to go as far as a kiss another guy—that was big. I took a deep, quick breath and seized his lips with mine.

I think my brain blew a fuse. Every rational thought moved out of my mind as I felt Ryan press his lips back against mine, clutching my waist (to which all my blood was rushing) to keep from falling over as he leaned into me.

"I shouldn't be doing this!" a small voice in the back of my head thought in panic, trying to make me pull back. "Stop! What if your parents or Chad or any of your friends see you?"

**I always know**

In that moment, Ryan and I had to break apart for air. For a split second, we were back to staring into each others eyes. "Now's your chance, walk away!" the voice said. His sky blue eyes were still covered with that…glaze.

Seeing me pause for a moment, Ryan smiled directly into my eyes. The smile that made my knees turn to jelly. The smile that had taken me almost three months of constant attention to bring out. The smile with his heart in it. On that beautiful, blushing, bright, bubbly face of his.

"What are you waiting for?" the voice protested.

**'Cause you make me smile even just for a while**

"Nothing," I inwardly responded before leaning down and kissing Ryan a second time, this time bearing down harder, covering his mouth wholly with mine.

* * *

_-heaves a sigh- So there, at last you all have your Tryan kiss. Aren't they just too cute for words? Even as I went back and wrote_ more_ cuteness, I can't help but just wriggle with the…Tryanness of it all. But don't worry; the fluffiness doesn't stop here, heehee. When you have a couple as cute as Troy and Ryan, you want to take advantage of it._

_The reason I made Ryan's middle name Christopher is probably because of the movie "Father Goose". In it, Cary Grant plays a character named Walter Christopher Eckland. See how the two names sound alike? So in my mind, Ryan Christopher Evans automatically sounds good, haha._

_It's actually kind of funny; when I originally wrote the milkshake part of the story, it was only when I reread that part I was like "oh god, that sounds__**really**__ bad" and had a giggle-fit, during which my homophobic/innocent mom walked in and I had to slam the laptop shut. Milkshake is such a great word :_


	12. work in progress

**Sorry everybody, but this chapter needs some major work! I posted it before I should have, so I'm gonna go work on it a bit and then re-post the new and improved version. If you want to respond to this little note, pm me rather than reviewing the chapter; I'd prefer the reviews be only about the actual story itself.**

**Again, sorry for the mess-up, the slightly-improved chapter will be up shortly :) Thank you all for your patience! **


	13. An Inconvenience

I feel terrible about belaying this for so long, but really it took my conscious this long to come around.

It is very reluctantly that I inform you all that I will no longer be continuing this slash story. I will keep on writing HSM fanfics (I doubt I could survive without them), but not any involving slash. This is not at all because I have run out of ideas; on the contrary, I still have tons upon tons of ideas.

But what should be the #1 priority in my life has not even been on the top 10 recently, and that is my lord and savior Jesus Christ. I know, I probably fooled you all with my sex scenes, obscene language, and gay pride stories. I'm still hashing out a lot of things with him right now (because good relationships take time, don't you know), but he has made it **very **clear to me that encouraging gay pride is not his list for what he wants to do with my life. If I can overcome my pride of this story, with it's over 200 reviews (and trust me, I am ridiculously proud of it) and prove to God with my actions and not just words how important he is to me, then I shall really be taking a step closer.

Personally, I still disagree on the subject of homosexuality with God. But Romans 1:32 (to quote the Bible) says, "Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them." And I have have been doing just that.

God made it very clear to me. Him or the good opinion of the world. I can only pick one. No offense to you all, but I picked him.

I hope you will all respect my decision, and I do apologize for the inconvenience of it all. Perhaps in a while I'll post a general gist of how the story was going to end, even if it won't be all the half-written things I have.

Again, sorry for the inconvenience. You all have been so wonderful in showering me with compliments, and I couldn't ask for a nicer group of people. Thank you, and hopefully I'll see you reviewing one of my other stories some other time (_plugging future stories here really is terrible, I know it, I know it)._

_FYI - I **shall** be posting this same message on all my other stories concerning slash_


	14. Small Reponse

I do feel it is only fair to defend myself. I understand that obeying what God tells you to do makes no logical sense at all in the real world. And personally, I also see no problem with homosexuality, but the Bible makes it very plain that whatever our opinions, God is against it. Trust me, I am not trying to twist the words to my own advantage -- believe me, I would much rather go on writing slash.

I know all this seems pathetic and wimpy, but I cannot deny that God has put his own my heart. I didn't hear some voice from the clouds say LOUISA STOP WRITING SLASH; that's just stupid. But so many things have come up concerning it, and so many stories from both sides keep on finding their ways to my ears -- unless you have personally experienced it, there is no way to describe the feeling of God telling you what to do (and no denying once you feel it).

Let me be understood: This isn't some "act of religion" I'm doing to get extra kudos in heaven. Despite all my MILLION issues, God loves me no matter what I do, and even though I'm not worth a penny he sent someone down to get the punishment I truly deserve just so I could have a relationship with him. And I love him for that. If you love someone, you do what will make them happy, not your own. And I will survive not writing slash, however much I miss it. It's not like he impressed upon me not to write at all.

If you wish to further argue about God's opinion on homosexuality, or God's role in our lives, or even to yell at me, please do it in a pm (or on a comment, it really doesn't matter). If I don't know the answer, I will say so and not go blundering ignorantly around in circles. I'll be open with you all, because you deserve the truth.

I do not wish to offend anyone who is homosexual, Christian, non-Christian, what-have-you. I only wish to please my God, and I wish to because I love him. If I am offensive, I am terribly sorry; it was not intentional.


End file.
